Only Through The Pain
by The Magnificent Kiwi
Summary: One year has passed since the events in Kijuju but for some the painful memories linger and the associated guilt proves too corrosive, too potent to be forgotten. As they attempt to settle down Chris and Jill find themselves haunted by their past. C/J
1. Prologue

**Only Through the Pain**

**AN - **There's two stories I'm working on at the moment but since I'm quite busy with college and stuff right now I figured I'd put this one out first since it will hopefully take less time to complete. This story basically follows Chris and Jill as they try to settle down, start a family, etc. and forget about the horrors they've faced (which obviously proves harder than they thought) when their past begins to catch up with them. I want to address the other characters, too, but the main focus will be on Chris and Jill. However, they won't be the only game characters involved.

This isn't a sequel to Reunion, despite the fact that it may seem like it. If you want you can think of it as one but I prefer not to; I ended Reunion with the thought that Chris and Jill did the usual RE ending of flying off into the sunset. This story shows that they aren't quite there yet (I was actually reluctant about doing this for that reason). I know there's other fics out there concerning similar themes but I wanted to write one myself :). I had a hell of a time trying to think of a summary for this so you're just gonna have to go with me on this one. Future chapters will be longer (hopefully much longer).

I should also mention that this story contains spoilers for Resident Evil 5.

Anyway, the title of the story is taken from the name of Trapt's last album. I just thought it suited the story perfectly.

Disclaimer: I own neither Resident Evil (or any of the characters associated with it) or Trapt (or anything to do with them) nor do I claim to. This story is intended purely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.

_Prologue_

_"Every time I held you I knew that it would hurt. Only through the pain I could find a way to learn._"

Ten years, ten long years... Jill sighed in amazement. Even after all this time she still didn't know what the hell had been keeping her going. Was it the all-consuming desire for revenge she had harboured? Was it her hatred for Wesker? Her desire to be by Chris's side? Whatever it was it had kept her alive, through infection and imprisonment.

A decade was all it had taken for the mighty Umbrella Corporation to fall and for Wesker to disappear from their lives for good. No more running, no more hiding...the only road ahead was one that lead to freedom.

"Are you just gonna stand there all day or do you want to help?" Chris asked, taking the younger woman by surprise. She smiled at him as her hands glided over her arms, an expression of pure contentment displayed proudly on her features.

Chris winked at her as he threw a small box in her direction. She stumbled a little as she caught it, composing herself before walking into their new home.

It was a spacious house, modern yet traditional with a genuine fireplace and three bedrooms. The final price they had paid had been several thousand dollars more than they wanted to part with but they were intent on buying that house and no other. For them it was worth the money; it was their first home together. The interior of the house was bare, save for the carpets and the light coating of paint on the walls. They had concluded that it did not need re-decorating and the kitchen had been fitted only weeks before the previous owners had moved out so there was no need to part with any extra cash for the sake of improvement.

Jill placed the box on the dining table, along with the others that Chris had stacked haphazardly on top of each other. She frowned at his disorganisation but shrugged it off, not expecting any better from her husband.

"Where do you want these?" Barry asked as he waved a crudely-taped cardboard box in the air.

"Ah, I think those are Chris's trophies," she replied. "Put them in the study; upstairs, first room on the right."

She was a little amazed by Barry's ability to tuck the heavy box under one arm as he jogged up the stairs; Chris was a highly-decorated soldier, his medals and trophies ranging from simple 'Marksman of the Year' awards from the R.P.D. through S.T.A.R.S. achievement trophies to the many awards he had received from the BSAA. The box must have weighed a fair amount yet Barry seemed to treat it like it was nothing.

Jill shrugged at the thought. Even after five years' early retirement he was still as strong as he had been in S.T.A.R.S.. In contrast she noted that the far younger Leon, still an operating US government agent, struggled with a mere suitcase.

"You've been back...a year," he panted, resorting to dragging the heavy case across the floor, despite Jill's loud protests. "How the hell have you bought this much stuff...in a year?"

"Suck it up, Kennedy," she laughed. "You're supposed to be strong, our country relies on guys like you. Yet you can't handle one woman's clothes?"

He muttered something under his breath, a sentitment that sounded a lot like "go to hell" and continued to wrestle the case up the stairs. Jill couldn't help but laugh at him.

It was their own damn fault for offering to help, she told herself. If they couldn't handle a little lifting and carrying they never should have volunteered.

"And be careful, I like this carpet!" She shouted, loud enough for the Burton girls to hear her by the doorway. She was answered by more swearing and a loud thud, presumably the younger man dropping the offending item in defeat.

"Is there anything at all you need us to do?" Polly asked as she approached Jill, her sister by her side. "Dad won't let us touch any of the heavy boxes. Kind of defeats the point in bringing us along if you ask me, but we stopped arguing with him years ago."

"Well," Jill began, pausing for thought as she tried to find an activity for the bored teenagers. "I guess you could go upstairs and make the beds. Sheets are in that box over there. White or black for the master bedroom and I'll let you choose for the guests. There's also some towels in that box that you can put in the bathrooms. White and black for the ensuite, blue for the main bathroom."

The girls giggled, causing Jill to pause and laugh at herself.

"I'm turning into a housewife, aren't I?" She asked, a slight trace of worry evident in her tone.

"You still have your job," Moira pointed out. "Most housewives don't tell ex-forces guys how to take down zombies."

Jill smiled as the girls began to rifle through the box she had carefully labeled 'linen'. After a two month leave from BSAA duties both she and Chris had retired from active duty, preffering to make up for time they had lost. They both agreed that the BSAA no longer needed them the way they had before Jill's blood provided a much-needed cure for the viruses. With the antivirus being shipped frequently to affected countries, terrorists had largely abandoned the use of bioweapons. The BSAA was still needed, of course, but not to the extent it had been previously. Their experience had ensured that both Chris and Jill could secure desk jobs and were awarded the responsibility of assisting in the training of new recruits. They were both well respected and to land a place in either one of their classes was considered a great honour. The hours were good; thirty a week at most with paperwork on weekends; and the pay was better.

It was as though every element of their life was falling perfectly into place...finally.

She smiled, digging into a nearby box to pull out a worn photoframe. The picture within was over ten years old, taken the night before Bravo's failed mission. Every member was grinning insanely, the old sense of camaraderie she had loved about S.T.A.R.S. evident in the stillness of the scene.

A sudden wave of sorrow passed over her. Everything they had fought for had been for those men; every cut, every bruise, every victory, every tear. It had taken ten years, but their deaths had finally been avenged. It was unsettling to say the least and the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members found it difficult to finally lay their friends' memories to rest, but it was the ending they all knew they deserved.

The frame fit perfectly between a photograph of her wedding day and another of the Original Eleven. She knew how proud they would be of her for carrying on the good fight and also how hilarious they would have found the idea of bickering Valentine and Redfield as husband and wife.

"Cute," Chris commented, observing the photograph over her shoulder. "But you have no idea how glad I am that I didn't have to parade around in front of them in a tux. It was bad enough with the others there."

"I think you looked rather dashing," Jill commented in the best faux-English accent she could manage.

"I felt like a damn penguin."

Their wedding had been small and simple yet at the same time it was everything Jill had ever dreamed of. Their close friends and family attended, as did most of the members of BSAA's North American division, with the addition of Sheva and Josh. Claire and Rebecca had, of course, been bridesmaids, as had the Burton girls, with Barry as best man and Dick Valentine gratefully walking his daughter down the aisle. It was a church wedding, though neither Chirs nor Jill were overly religious, and the reception had been held at a nearby hotel.

Jill gazed at the photograph before them, taken outside the church in a moment of lapsed concentration. It was a candid shot, their eyes locked with an aura of pure contentment seeming to surround them. Jill's dress hugged her body tightly, the skirt hanging loosely around her legs. It was obvious the moment she laid eyes on it that it was the dress for her; simple yet beautiful...understated.

"You looked stunning," Chris whispered, his arms around her waist. "It was perfect, every moment of it."

"Don't get soppy, Redfield," she teased. "Though I have to agree with you. Still...if someone had told me ten years ago that I would be marrying Chris Redfield, I wouldn't have believed them."

"Now who's being soppy?"

A sharp elbow dug playfully into his ribs, his arms not quite relinquishing their hold on her.

"Are you two done yet?" Leon complained. "This is _your_ house, why are _we_ doing all the work?"

* * *

It rained that night. The air was warm, the wind beating against the windows. Chris always hated summer rain, he thought it defeated the point. Though he admittedly had not spent many summers in North America, the BSAA and his own hard-working attitude keeping him away from home most of the year. Still, the rain continued to beat down outside and for once Chris did not mind.

He turned from the window, closing the curtains behind him. He was not interested in what was outside, not when there was a whole new environment to get used to. The size of the master bedroom satisfied him; it was large enough to accomodate their Queen-sized bed as well as a sizeable chest of drawers, dressing table and several shelves with room to spare. The colour scheme was plain and grown-up for the most part.

"Not bad, huh?" Jill asked, pulling her hair into a rough ponytail as she exited the ensuite. Chris hummed in agreement, much more fascinated by the new sight before him. Jill wore loose-fitting pyjamas; a pants and cami set, nothing sexy. Still, Chris couldn't help but note the way it clung to her hips, how the colour perfectly suited her skin tone now that it had somewhat returned to normal. Jill noticed him looking and wiggled her hips a little before clapping her hands to pull him roughly from his daydream.

"Eyes front, soldier," she laughed. He raised an eyebrow, sending her into a further fit of laughter.

"Since when do I take orders from you?" he joked. A dull _'thwack'_ permeated the still air as a pillow hit him square in the face. He reacted slowly, returning the pillow to the spot she had occupied several seconds too late.

She re-appeared by his side, her hands placed gently on his back and stomach respectively.

"So which side do you want?" she asked, turning to look at their freshly-made bed.

"Depends where we finish," he growled suggestively, pulling her into him again.

Her eyes were drawn to his, a solitary hand remaining on his chest as the other fell to his waist. He could barely register her touch through the thin cotton of his T-shirt, her hands and every other part of her seeming so small next to his bulkier frame. Still, what he could feel could not be described by words alone. It was a feeling he had missed too much in the two years she was gone, a feeling he made sure he experienced as frequently as possible now that he knew what it was like to live without her.

He groaned inwardly, one more time laughing at how domesticated and, well...soppy he had become. It was all he could do to refrain from checking to make sure his balls were still where they should be. Though he was justified in his worry; having experienced the sheer agony of losing her, he had no intention of revisiting that dark period.

She remained still in his arms, her eyes fixed on a crease in his shirt, her mind obviously elsewhere.

"Jill?" he asked.

She did not respond, nor did she show any signs of acknowledging his presence, let alone his voice.

"Jill, honey?" he tried, knowing how much she hated being called 'honey'. It made her feel ten years older, she had told him.

Still, no reply.

"Jill!"

His cry seemed to snap her back to reality with a jolt, her whole body responding to his call. As if by instinct, a large hand found its way to her cheek, the darkened skin contrasting to her own pale (yet recovering) tone.

For a moment her eyes locked with his, the blissful expression she adopted suddenly betrayed by the contradiction Chris witnessed beyond this superficial display. He could not quite pick up on what exactly it was that he witnessed, but something deep inside of him twisted, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut.

"Jill, are you alright?"

She breathed deeply, her eyes flitting away before returning to meet his gaze, once again filled with intelligence and light. Still...something lingered just below the surface, something Chris could not quite identify. A reassuring smile was offered, followed by a kiss he found hard to object to.

"I'm fine," she promised, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "I just don't feel too good...a little sick. It's probably the weather, I'll be alright."

Her smile remained as he searched her features as though the answers would suddenly appear, etched into her flawless skin. He found nothing to contradict her words other than the niggling feeling that something wasn't quite right. He let it slide, knowing that she always worried about silly little things that weren't worth the energy she spent on them. _'She's probably worrying about the colour of the curtains downstairs'_ he thought.

"In that case, I think we have a new bed to christen," he announced, sweeping her up into his arms. A small surprised yelp escaped her throat but she gladly settled into his arms, obedient as he lay her gently onto the oversized bed.

"Be gentle," she begged in a mock-serious tone. Chris laughed as he leaned over her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her small frame.

"No promises," he whispered.

**AN - Please R&R :).**

* * *


	2. Hysteria Lane

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. However, I noticed that more people added this story to their favourites/alerts than actually reviewed. Please leave your thoughts if you read this chapter, feedback makes a better story :).

Also, apologies for the late update, I meant to get this up earlier but the past few weeks have been crazy. Hopefully the next chapter will be up quicker.

**fr0zeny0gurt** - Hehe, it's great isn't it? There was a sudden increase in the Leon/Ada stories after RE4, so I was kinda hoping that the same would happen with Chris/Jill after RE5. Let's just hope that it continues.

**tek - **Of course :). I've loved them ever since I heard Headstrong. I couldn't decide on a title and I caught sight of their CD and thought "ah yes, that fits!". Yes, my artistic process is very complicated ¬¬.

**MrsMoshae, Sparkle Valentine, Kryptonian250, C. Redfield 86** - Thank you :).

**_Chapter One - Hysteria Lane_**

Jill wasn't used to being up and about so early, let alone being up and about with nothing to do. Most of the boxes had been flattened, their possessions neatly in place around them; it very almost felt like home.

She busied herself with breakfast, having practiced the art intensely over the past year. Cooking was one of the many things she had all but forgotten about during her captivity and learning every dish from scratch was proving to be inconvenient. Breakfast had been her top priority given Chris's love for anything fried and greasy. She felt a little silly for admitting it but it made her happy to be able to make something for him, especially after everything he had done to help her reassimilate into society. It hadn't been easy, especially after news of her return reached the ever-eager media.

A hero. That is what they had called her, approaching her story with a sympathetic angle. The world already knew her as an ex-S.T.A.R.S. member, a Raccoon City survivor and one of the faces behind Umbrella's fall, now they knew her as a victim of circumstances she had fought to change. They heard of her selfless sacrifice, of the months she spent bound and chained at the mercy of her former Captain, of the experiments performed on her and how she fought like the hero she supposedly was.

Jill greatly disagreed with this analysis but considering the direction their stories could have went in, she played the part, attended press conferences and showed that she was fully co-operating with the BSAA as they analysed her blood samples. It occured to her that the positive media attention may have been why the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium had allowed her to simply walk out of Africa and remain in the limelight for as long as she had. The pressure they were under was immense at the time with all the negative attention they received thanks to a GPC chair member's involvement in the Kijuju incident. They could have easily made her their scapegoat. She would have been arrested, subjected to more experimentation and imprisoned for the rest of her life...if she was lucky. Chris would have been made to seem unstable, his judgement clouded by the fact that he was in love with a traitor and he too would have been court-martialled. All things considered, they were lucky.

"Lucky," she scoffed, removing the bacon from under the grill. A frown crept upon her face, the displeasing aroma of the burnt edges reaching her before she witnessed the extent of the damage. She swore violently, taking a knife to the charred meat.

"Whoa, something die in here?" Chris joked, his exaggerated arm movements annoying Jill more than his comment had.

"You know what? Just eat it," she fumed, dumping the bacon onto a plate with the rest of his breakfast and walking away.

"Hey, hey!" he protested. His hand shot out to grab her arm. "I was joking, relax."

His apology earned him little more than a furious glare, one that would have turned him to stone had he not known her better.

"Joking?" she repeated, her tone furious enough to send a chill up his spine. "I try to do something nice for you and all you can do is joke about it?"

The situation remained light-hearted in his eyes, but there was nothing light-hearted about Jill's temper and Chris worked quickly to diffuse it before he was faced with a homicidal wife this close to the kitchen knives.

"Hey, I appreciate this, I really do!" he promised. "Lighten up, what's with you this morning?"

He watched in amazement as her expression suddenly softened and a trembling hand shot to her hair.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I was the one who burned the bacon, it's not your fault."

"It's not _anyone's_ fault. Bacon wouldn't be bacon if parts of it didn't turn into charcoal under the grill."

He felt her sigh against his neck as he pulled her into him.

"Did you even get any sleep last night?" he asked.

She shook her head gently.

"Couple of hours," she admitted. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

Chris squeezed her shoulder gently as she pulled away; a simple act of reassurance that brought a shallow smile to her face.

"I'm heading off to work soon," he announced. "You sure you're okay? I can always take the day off if you need some company."

Her irritation at being treated like a fragile doll aside, Jill shook her head. Chris's job meant a lot to him, there was no way she could ask him to forget about it just because she was in an agitated mood.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Now eat your damn breakfast."

Chris laughed, offering a mock salute before taking his plate to the dining table. Jill watched him carefully, forcing a smile. The lack of sleep and stress of moving into a new house, their _first_ house, had worn her patience to the bone. She appreciated his light-hearted attitude and she loved the fact that he could joke about anything but she couldn't help feeling a little left out, like he was enjoying a joke that she just didn't get. As usual, she pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind.

* * *

The dull thud of skin-on-leather echoed around the small basement, the punchbag wobbling dangerously in front of her. Jill backed off a little before suddenly turning and slamming the side of her foot into the apparatus, a mid-air spin following before her other leg collided with the swaying bag.

She was faster, that much was obvious. The P30 may have been flushed from her system but the effects that her strenuous training had on her body lingered. Had she still been an active member of the BSAA her skills would have no doubt been valued. Yet here they were, wasted...

She attacked the bag with furious tenacity, a fine layer of sweat already coating her skin. Kick after kick, punch after punch; every move connected with the target exactly where she intended it to.

Her fist cut through the air, a sudden rush of adrenaline surging through her body.

_"Stop!" He cried, clutching his shoulder in agony. "I get the point! I get the point!"_

_She was apparantly unconvinced, a gloved hand finding his throat and hauling his scrawny body up against the wall. She did not feel the muscles in her arm strain as he was raised several inches off the ground; she didn't even break a sweat._

_"Then answer me; what are you going to do about them?" It was her voice alright; mechanical, cold and as unfeeling as always._

_"You're just one of Excella's playthings!" he laughed. "It was your master who was-"_

_"One more time," she demanded. "What are you going to do about them?"_

_Her eyes never left his face, though they did not _see_ any detail; her eyes did not notice the thick beads of sweat that trickled down his temples, they did not see the pain in his expression or the fear in his eyes. Her eyes did not see these details, but she did._

_"Alright," he choked, tugging at her hand. "Alright, I'll handle it!"_

_She released him immediately, reducing him to a coughing, spluttering heap on the floor. He crouched over his gold, greedily gulping down as much air as he could in fear of an impending attack._

_Her hand found its way inside her robe, gloved fingers wrapping around a cylindrical object. His eyes widened as he caught sight of what it was that she held._

_"Use it," her voice commanded._

The punchbag gently rocked back and forth above her, the creaking of the chain that held it to the ceiling the only sound. Deep gulps of air were drawn from her surroundings, a stinging pain across the left side of her face begging for attention.

"What the hell was that?" she gasped, Irving's terrified expression haunting her as his words had. She could almost taste the damp air, almost feel the heat of the African sun.

A small drop of blood meandered down her chin and her hand immediately rose up to feel the cause. Her lip was swollen, almost twice the size it had been a moment ago. She swore, barely remembering the force of the punchbag as it swung around, knocking her clean off her feet. The mirror she had hastily screwed to the far wall revealed the extent of the damage; a busted lip and a bruised forehead.

Her injuries seemed inconsequential compared to her memories. She had not witnessed the monstrosity that Irving had no doubt become but she knew by the simple fact that Chris and Sheva were still alive that he had perished..

"Poor bastard," she moaned. He was as much of a tool as she was, his greed and lust for material goods contributing to his demise as much as the parasite had. He never deserved any of it...

The pain slowly faded, though the swelling remained and a sense of nervousness washed over her.

She knew how Chris would react before she even revealed herself to him. A couple of months after her S.T.A.R.S. debut, her scumbag boyfriend had worked her over, leaving her with superficial yet ugly injuries. She had been afraid of what her teammates would think and took a few days off work which of course played on the caring side of her partner. When Chris arrived at her apartment to check up on her and caught sight of her injuries it was all she could do to save him from almost certain homicide charges. He didn't care that her (ex) boyfriend had been left worse off than her (as many had put it, she may not look tough but had a mean right hook), he simply wanted to see the bastard's head roll. Ironically enough it had been this event that signalled the start of several years of assumed unrequited love.

The punchbag continued to sway as she maneuvered past it and ascended the stone steps back into the main part of the house. The sunlight that beat down on her seemed almost unnatural after so long spent under the artificial light of the basement. Her skin had healed since her captivity and she was once again able to tolerate direct sunlight for prolonged periods of time. Still, she found herself shying away from the sun, much preferring the comfort that darkness provided.

She resisted the urge to close the blinds and instead headed for her make up bag, hoping that she could cover her injuries.

* * *

The BSAA headquarters were relatively new, the sharp scent of fresh paint still lingering in the air. Chris noted that the building was similar to that of the old R.P.D., from the winding corridors to the fact that one could easily get lost by simply opening the wrong door. It provided him with a strange sense of familiarity, reminding him of the old days. Raccoon City had provided him with his first real home and the first job he had felt truly happy in; it was this nostalgic feeling that helped ease the transition between field agent and desk jockey.

"Redfield, you bastard," a cheery voice greeted.

Chris looked up as his office door swung open and a familiar face came into view. The man must have been at least forty, bald and dressed in beaten-up military fatigues.

"Greg," he acknowledged, rising from his chair. "How's it going? It's got to be what? Six months?"

"Is that it?" Greg wondered aloud as he embraced his friend in a manly hug. "Man, I got so used to seeing you around every day...it feels like years! It's been quiet around here without you. Never thought I'd see the day when Chris Redfield hung up his guns. Sorry I couldn't make the wedding."

"That's alright," Chris laughed as he pulled out another seat for his friend. "I heard you just got back from Mexico. I'm guessing the mission was a success?"

"Damn right it was," Greg laughed. "Easiest task I've been given. Makes you miss the old days, really...nobody puts up much of a fight these days. Still, it's better that it went smoothly. What about you? Moved in yet?"

A smile came to Chris's lips as his mind drifted back to that little house in the suburbs.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Strange, I never would have expected to be settling down at thirty-five."

"Worth it?"

Chris paused for a second, sure about his answer but not about how to phrase it.

"Totally," he settled for. "Jill seems to be a bit wigged out by it but it's understandable. So much has happened in the past year. It's like she's never been gone, you know, but... I don't know, I guess part of me is expecting to wake up and find out it was all a dream."

Greg let out a hearty laugh, several wrinkles becoming more prominent around his eyes. Greg reminded Chris so much of Barry; kind-hearted, jolly, gun-obsessed and a family man to the bone.

"So, you're married, settled down...you guys trying for kids yet?"

Chris smiled again, his eyes fixed on the desk infront of him. He wouldn't admit it without a fight but he was just as much of a family man as Greg and Barry were; he had spent his teenage years looking after his little sister, and despite his plans for a career in the military his first wish was to have a family of his own. The only hole in his plan was that he never seemed to be able to settle down, to maintain a relationship for more than a few months. Girls came and went, hearts were broken and tears were shed, but he never found a girl he cared deeply about.

Until he met Jill.

Chris had never met anyone like Jill before and she fascinated him. She was intelligent, passionate and tough yet there was still an air of fragility about her. He loved how she didn't take shit from anyone, including him, and the way they could talk for hours about issues his previous girlfriends knew nothing about. She intrigued him, fascinating him on every level. It also didn't hurt that she was the most beautiful thing in his eyes. They danced around their feelings for over a year, making it obvious to everyone but themselves that there was a deep attraction that was more than purely physical. It took the deaths of their friends and the destruction of life as they knew it to finally knock some sense into the couple and force them to realise that yes, they were in love. But it was too late...the damage had already been done. Chris gave up all hope of being with her, their work suddenly becoming more important than love, than family.

Now they had been granted another chance. As Umbrella died their feelings bloomed, a relationship that never should have been bringing them closer than before. Even throughout the two years she had been assumed dead, Chris never stopped loving her. On the day she returned to him he made a promise to himself and to her that they would cease their habit of seeking out danger and would instead live the life they had both dreamed of; the only life that offered them a happy ending.

"Not yet," he answered, getting back to the subject at hand. "We need a little time to settle into the house and our new jobs. Though that's not to say we aren't getting plenty of practise."

Their laughs mingled, Greg winking at Chris knowingly.

"Make the most of it while the honeymoon period lasts," he told him. "Anyway, now that you're back from your actual honeymoon, I have a job for you."

Chris raised an eyebrow inquisitively, an act which Greg noticed and replied to with a quick wink as he placed a thin brown folder on the desk in front of him.

"Another arms deal, Argentina this time...it's right up your street," he explained, his voice low and persuasive. Chris balked a little, suddenly realising the nature of this 'job'.

"Uh, DeLaney, didn't they tell you? I'm not a field agent anymore," he explained, pushing the folder away before he was even tempted to open it. Greg simply pushed the folder back towards him.

"Yeah, I heard, but I didn't believe it," he replied, suddenly serious. "Redfield, you can't be serious about this. Five years you've been at this. Twelve if you count your time with S.T.A.R.S. and the Air Force..._seventeen_ if you include the five years you spent fighting Umbrella with no letters beside your name. That's virtually half your life, work like this is in your _blood_! You can't turn your back on it that easily, we both know that."

Chris's eyes darted down to the small paper folder before meeting Greg's in an annoyed glare.

"And twelve of those years were spent with Jill by my side...where she is now," he pointed out. "She has been fighting just as long as I have, it's in her blood as much as it is in mine and we both decided to leave that life behind us."

"Chris, you-"

"No, Greg!" The small chair he had been seated on flew backwards as he jumped to his feet. "Ever since S.T.A.R.S. our main objective has been to fight in the memory of our friends, to save others from the same fate and we have done that. There's a cure out there, there's agents we ourselves have trained. The man we have fought for ten years to stop is dead...we deserve to rest now."

"You do or she does?"

Greg bolted for the door as Chris stepped angrily towards him.

"Shit, Chris, I'm sorry!" he apologised quickly, holding up his hands. "Look, it's just one assignment. You could take it and see how you feel after that. Talk to Jill, you guys were the best team we ever had."

"We quit," Chris pressed. "I-I thought I'd lost her, Greg. For two damn years I tore myself up because I thought I'd never be able to settle down with her and have a normal life. Now that we've been given a second chance I don't want to blow it. My work always came first, and it worked for a while but now...now it's time to get my priorities right. So I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to find someone else."

Greg smiled sympathetically at his friend.

"Man, you really do have a heart of gold," he laughed and Chris joined in nervously. "I can't touch a guy like that. I hope you're happy, I really do...you guys deserve it. But if you ever change your mind, I'll always have a job for you."

The two men met in one last manly hug before Greg mock-saluted him and walked out of the small office. Chris watched him leave, smiling to himself. Even after all these years he was amazed at how some of his co-workers could jump so gleefully into the job. The cause was worth fighting for, that much he acknowledged, but the burden was too much for one man to bear. It was Sheva who had forced him to realise this seemingly obvious truth and for that reason he was grateful towards her.

He made his way back to his desk, hands shoved into the front pockets of his combat pants. It was as he lowered himself into his seat once again that he noticed the brown folder still laying on top of his paperwork. Strangely, he found that he could not remove his eyes from it. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat as he observed it with trepidation. It was such a simple item, one he saw many times every day, yet it both unnerved and fascinated him. Without thinking he carefully unhooked the treasury tag that held it together and folded back the cover.

The pictures within seemed to stir something within him, a morbid curiosity that was more than unwelcome. He fearfully slammed the folder shut and threw it to the back of his desk cabinet, his hands trembling dangerously.

"Why the hell did I quit smoking?" he fumed as his fingernails dug painfully into the back of his neck, his head low over the surface of his desk.

"Mr. Redfield, your wife is on line two." He sat bolt upright at the chirpy feminine voice that invaded his senses. The absurdity of the sentence hit him and he found it almost too painful to laugh. All of a sudden he felt like a fifty-two year old man with high blood pressure and an expense account.

"Suzie, you came out for drinks with us last month," he sighed, acknowledging the presence of the secretary at his door. "Her name is Jill, please use it."

She muttered a hasty apology and sidestepped back out of the room, leaving Chris in the wake of her announcement. He hastily picked up the receover, desperate to hear a sane voice.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice almost melodic to his ears. "I was just wondering: pork or beef for dinner?"

"Huh?"

"Haha, I'm kidding," she laughed. "I just thought I'd call to see how your first day back was going."

"Oh," he began, rubbing his eyes and not much appreciating her joke. "It's going...fine. Can't tell you how good it is to hear your voice, though."

"Aww, miss me already?" Chris sighed and allowed a gentle laugh to escape him. He almost didn't notice the way her 'm's sounded suspiciously like 'b's.

"I don't know, two weeks on a beach with you and now I'm back in a dingy office," he spoke. "It's like falling out of heaven and straight into hell."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," she laughed. "I can't stay on long, the neighbours dropped by to say hello and I'm just making them some coffee now. Next door brought some wine over so I wanted to ask you to pick up a movie on your way home and maybe we could open it tonight?"

A smirk came to Chris's lips.

"You know, I'd actually love that."

"Great, I'll see you later then?"

"Are you okay? You sound a little...off?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine...I had a little accident with the punchbag, split my lip open but I've suffered worse, right?"

"Right...just put some ice on it and be careful next time."

She hummed in agreement, though Chris knew for a fact that she would just leave it to swell on its own. He bade goodbye to her and hung up the phone, his eyes landing on a photograph of them together, taken moments before they had departed on that fateful mission almost three years ago. Both he and Jill were decked out in full combat gear, unaware that the mission they were about to undertake would leave a trail of pure devastation in its wake.

A lump formed in Chris's throat as he remembered the pain that had literally rendered him incapable of moving mere hours later. Even now the bitter memory of such emotions only served to frighten him. He had not thought himself capable of such horrifying levels of emotional torment, had never thought that such a hollow emptiness existed.

He had found solace in the many memories they had shared, of the places they had visited, the missions they had successfully executed together. They were the perfect team; strong, unstoppable. Battle never had such a thrill as it did when she was running alongside him, gun in hand.

But despite how much these memories meant to him, he knew that those times were where they belonged; in the past. Still, he was left with a feeling of nostalgia, one that he did not entirely understand.

**AN - Please review :).**


	3. How Far?

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **I've got to admit, I wrote this a hell of a lot faster than I thought I would. I kind of deviated a little from what I had planned for this chapter but I think it worked out better this way. As usual, flashbacks are in italics. Also, the chapter title is from a song by Apocalyptica and Marta Jandova. I thought it quite described what Jill is feeling.

**Sparkle Valentine - **Thank you :). I always worry that I'll lose people because I have a tendency to go on and on, lol. I'm also loving the Chris/Jill fics, but the recent amount of Chris/Wesker ones is disturbing me a little :S.

**tek - **Thank you. I liked your way of describing it...'filing them away' :). All I can say on that one is wait and see.

**Kira131, Raidenlover6, Tiger Snaps, Kenshin13, C. Redfield 86 - **Thank you all. Your kind words mean a lot :).

Thank you all for reviewing, I really appreciate it.

_**Chapter Two **- How Far?_

_"How deep will I have to fall before I find the world again?"_

_Her eyes opened smoothly, her senses suddenly springing to life. The light that hit her was almost blinding, the air seeming unnaturally warm and humid. It was her immediate reaction to check her body, to ensure that nothing was broken and that everything was where it should be. Only this time her arms did not move. She groaned inwardly, putting it down to simple exhaustion. Her chest felt heavy, as though a large weight had recently been removed from on top of her. The skin of her chest felt tight and hot, like sunburn. Once again she attempted to raise a hand to feel the damage but she could not._

_"I see that you're awake," a familiar voice commented. A bolt of fear shot through her body as memories came flooding back to her. Spencer, Wesker, Chris, falling, pain, hospital...Wesker. She strained every muscle, trying desperately to move, to lunge at the man who had terrorised her for far too long. Yet for all her struggling she failed to move even one finger. Even when she tried to scream nothing came out, she didn't even open her mouth._

_It suddenly became obvious that something was very, very wrong._

_"Impressive, isn't it?" Wesker asked, stepping infront of her. She could not yet see his face, nor could she move her eyes to look at him._

_"For decades Umbrella tried to find a way to create a strong, obedient soldier," he continued. "They experimented with viruses they did not fully understand_, _spent billions of dollars creating horrific monsters they never had a hope of controlling. And all along the answer was right under their noses."_

_She flinched against the leather of his gloves as he placed two fingers beneath her chin and raised her head so that he could look her in the eyes. His were, as always, hidden by shades though she could make out a hint of red behind the glass. He observed her carefully for a few moments before stepping back several paces._

_"Stand up," he commanded._

_She could find no words to describe the sensation that came over her, the pure helplessness that she felt as her arms bent of their own accord, pushing her light frame to its feet._

_"Good," he applauded gleefully. "This will be just like the good old days, won't it? You, obeying every word I say. Of course, this time you don't have much of a choice in the matter but let's not dwell on the details."_

_Excella moved behind him, holding up a clipboard so that he could read a complicated chart she had clipped to it moments before._

_"Vital signs are good," she commented, a thick accent coating her words. "She is in perfect condition, save for the effects of spending a prolonged period of time in the cryogenic tube but none of that is harmful.__ We don't yet know how often the drug will need to be administered so it's a case of keeping an eye on her for a day or so until we know the correct dosage and timing. Given your...personal investment in this experiment, I thought that you would like to do the honours."_

_"Of course," Wesker replied. "You will remain with me for the next forty-eight hours, then we'll see how you deal with Irving."_

_Excella turned her attention to the man at her side, her interest suddenly piqued._

_"We are going ahead with the infection?" she asked._

_"In a few months," Wesker confirmed. "Uroboros is not ready for testing yet and if Jill proves to be a success you won't have much need for Las Plagas. When we know that Irving can be trusted we will use him to release Las Plagas into Kijuju. No doubt the infection will attract the attention of the BSAA and they will provide us with the much needed combat data for Uroboros. Until then Jill shall be our eyes and ears during his bioweapons deals."_

_"Still, it seems such a waste having her trail around after that idiot all day," Excella quipped. She moved closer still to her partner, eyeing him with a hunger even Jill could not ignore. Bile rose in Jill's throat, nausea adding to the fear that gripped her._

_"You have something more...productive?"_

_Excella smiled and moved towards Jill, arms outstretched as her hands rested on her chest, inspecting the skin there._

_"I can think of a few good uses," she purred. "I would much value combat data. Our previous P30 subjects were untrained individuals. You yourself said that she is a surprisingly strong and able-bodied woman and she has years of military training behind her. I can't wait to see how she performs with the aid of P30."_

_Her hands moved away, obviously satisfied. Jill could feel an abnormality on her chest; an area of skin that felt somewhat different from that which surrounded it. She could not see what it was but she was sure that something had become embedded in her flesh. All she could do was wonder as she remained motionless in the midst of her kidnappers' conversation._

_"Healing is well," Excella commented. "I also have a few other projects that she would be useful in. It would be interesting to see how a P30 subject holds up against our other bioweapons."_

_Wesker laughed heartlessly. Jill felt him move behind her, felt his eyes surveying her body._

_"Very well," he agreed. "Just keep her in one piece...I may still have a use for her."_

_Jill wept silently inside her shell, once again helpless as she was ordered to follow Excella and obeyed without question. __A sudden wave of despair hit her, no words left in her mind but 'what have I done?'._

A scream was torn from her throat as she leapt to her feet, body poised defensively. The television comtinued to play in the background, the rough hum of a neighbour's lawnmower drifting in through the open window.

"Mrs. Redfield?"

She spun around again, her furious gaze landing on a familiar face at the window.

"Travis," she sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her neighbour stared back at her with concern etched into his youthful features.

"Are you okay? I heard a scream," he asked. "Is everything alright?"

She stared dumbly at him, piecing her thoughts together. 'Of course, America...home.'

"I'm fine," she assured him, throwing in an embarassed laugh for good measures. "I just...saw a spider."

Of course, Jill hadn't feared spiders since she fought off arachnids bigger than her car in the Spencer Mansion, but Travis didn't know that. Though it touched her to know that her neighbour cared enough to check up on her. He laughed at her 'admission' and half turned away.

"You want me to come get it for you?" he asked as he removed his thick gardening gloves in preperation.

"No, I didn't see where it went," she told him. "But thank you. And tell Anna I said hi."

She did not want the embarassment of having a US Marine in her living room, on hands and knees, searching for a spider that didn't actually exist. Still, Travis saluted her politely and continued with his work.

"I wasn't even asleep," she whispered in disbelief, noting that she had barely missed five minutes of the TV show she had been engrossed in. She allowed her mind to wander back to the moments before her nightmare, remembering that she had merely been lying down, giving the television her undivided attention.

She swore as realisation dawned on her, still a little unnerved. The memory lingered, Wesker's laugh crawling up her spine. She wanted nothing more than to jump into the shower and scrub herself until her skin was raw.

The same sense of helplessness she had felt when in his custody washed over her once more. History was repeating itself, only this time she was a slave to her own memories. Her hands shook as they cradled her throbbing head, tears threatening to break but not making good on it.

'I'm going crazy, aren't I?' she thought. For two weeks her waking hours had been plagued by visions she could not understand. She had placed Kijuju and her confinement behind her, moved on with her life and generally tried to forget about that dark chapter of her life. Still, she found Irving's irritating laugh and Excella's smarmy smile terrorising her still. She removed her hands from her head, gazing down at the lines on her palms. They were strong, capable hands, hands that had saved many lives, that had comforted many friends.

_He writhed in exruciating pain before her, blood pouring out of every orifice. He skin was pulling itself apart, his bones cracking and dissolving and he was helpless to stop it. She wasn't...yet all she did was watch._

They had held many guns, thrown many punches.

_She didn't know this girl yet here she was, pounding into her with a ferocity that shocked even herself. Sheva returned her blows, careful to hit her where it would cause the least damage. If only she could be so considerate..._

"It's there, I just can't see it," she muttered.

They were gentle hands, hands that had felt parts of Chris the other girls at the R.P.D. would have only dreamt of touching.

_He groaned in pain, his refusal to fight back evident in his stance. Still, she rained blow after blow down on him, unrelenting, uncompromising...vicious._

"Get out!" she cried, careful with her volume this time. Her hands shot to her ears, fingers gripping them as though she were ready to rip them from her skull.

"It wasn't my fault! I didn't _want_ to do any of it! It...wasn't my fault."

* * *

Chris pulled the keys roughly from the ignition, trying hard to ignore the time that flashed on the dashboard. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that she wouldn't be pissed this time. Overtime was good money, and if they were looking to start a family they needed all the money they could get. At least that's what he had told himself when he signed on for so much extra work.

He stomach rumbled lightly, a friendly reminder that he hadn't fed himself in over seven hours. He slammed a fist against his muscular abs and reassured himself that food was not far away. He always scolded Jill for going to great lengths for dinner but tonight he hoped that there was a nice warm meal waiting for him. He felt a little guilty for his thoughts, but as usual his hunger overrode his other emotions.

"Honey, I'm home," he joked as he stepped inside, the warm sweet smell of freshly-baked...something reaching his nostrils. He heard swearing and a clatter from the kitchen and followed the sound.

"Dinner's over there," Jill told him, signalling to a brown paper bag next to the microwave.

"Ah, Madam Wong's. I've actually been craving Chinese food all day," he announced, not even having to lie. A quick rummage in the bag produced a smaller bag of egg rolls, which were obviously Jill's, and a chicken chop suey.

"They're not half bad," Jill announced, drawing Chris's attention behind him.

He looked closely at the plate of cookies she lay carefully on the bench. Some were slightly burnt around the edges and some more closely resembled rock buns but most of them looked passable as cookies.

"Yum," he commented, shovelling a chopstick full of rice into his mouth. Jill turned to him and raised an eyebrow, an act made almost comical by the messed-up hair she had hastily pulled back into a messy high pony tail and the glob of cookie dough that rested invitingly on her cheek.

"I was bored," she announced, a hint of sadness tinging her voice. "So I decided to try and bake."

She froze on the spot as Chris stepped forward and she suddenly found herself pressed up against his hard, muscular body.

"I can see that," he mused, his breath warm against her cheek as he deftly licked the offending cookie dough off her skin. She groaned, half in annoyance, half out of pleasure.

"You do know that's what kitchen roll is for, right?" she asked, finding it hard to act annoyed when his lips did not leave her skin and continued to journey over her cheek and down onto the sensitive skin just below her ear.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, stealthily reaching behind her. "But where's the fun in that?"

He pulled back immediately, placing a stolen cookie into his mouth before grabbing his chop suey and hopping away before Jill could figure out what had just happened.

"Joke's on you," she said plainly, having known what he was up to all along. "They've just come out of the oven."

A hiss and a violent curse drifted towards her from the direction of the living room as the scalding hot cookie fell out of Chris's mouth and into his food.

"Told you," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Chris simply chose to ignore the throbbing pain in his tongue and flopped down on the sofa, flicking through the channels with one hand whilst he fed himself with the other.

Jill remained in the kitchen, looking out over the counter at her husband. He seemed so content, so happy. An annoyed huff escaped her, irritation rising within. She noted how differnt he looked from when she had first met him. Back then he had been boyish Chris, lean yet muscular, clean-shaven with hair she doubted had been combed in years. Now he was Chris Redfield, a muscular killing machine with a thin layer of stubble he had forgotten to shave off that morning and hair that seemed to have resigned itself to the shape it had been ruthlessly beaten into (with the aid of copious amounts of gel) over the years. His muscles had shrank somewhat over the past year and his frame had slimmed down slightly, but he still radiated an aura of pure, unrelenting strength and Jill would admit that she was curious as to the damage he could inflict on someone with guns like those. She remembered her fight with him and how he tactfully avoided her, moving close only to pry the device from her chest. Even then he was as gentle as could be, relying on her own body weight and Sheva's strength to pull against the device. She was thankful that he had been so considerate; her body had been damaged enough by the time the device lay discarded and harmless on the floor, she didn't think she could have handled the pain of several broken bones on top of that.

She casually walked over to the sofa, sneaking up behind Chris as she wound her arms round his neck and lightly kissed his stubble-coated jawline. He did not respond to her or her kiss, his eyes remaining glued on some military documentary program. Slightly hurt, she pulled back and moved to sit next to him, her eyes constantly surveying her husband.

"Man, I can't believe it's been thirteen years since I left the Air Force," he muttered, maneuvering his chopsticks around the cookie that remained embedded in his food.

"Do you miss it?" Jill asked, an innocent question. Chris's head immediately snapped round, chopsticks freezing mid-air.

"What? No!" he exclaimed defensively. "Why would you say that?"

"Chris, it was just a question," she laughed. "Relax."

"I miss the camaraderie," he offered as his expression softened. "But not my superiors. What about you? Do you miss Delta Force? S.T.A.R.S.?"

"I was never in Delta Force," she corrected. "I only trained with them. But of course I miss S.T.A.R.S.; I miss the teamwork, the _team_. Hell, I even miss the BSAA sometimes. But...we left that life behind us, and the life we got in return is so worth it."

Chris's expression changed again, guilt betraying the curiosity he was using to cover for himself.

"It is," he told her with a loving smile, though he wasn't convinced. "I just don't know what to do with myself most of the time."

He turned away from her, once again engrossed in his program. Jill eyed him curiously, agreeing with him but not willing to admit it. She had not yet returned to work and was not due to for another week so his claim that he 'didn't know what to do with himself' irritated her. She considered scolding him, reminding him that while he was making himself useful she was lying on the sofa all day or making small talk with the neighbours. She was so frustratingly bored that she had even begun to write; just journals, accounts of her memories of S.T.A.R.S. and the years after that. Lately she had begun to record her memories of her captivity, writing down flashbacks as they occured. She had hoped that it would help ease her mind and stop the flashbacks, but she was left with leaves of paper that she dared not touch, let alone read. Some accounts were burned, others locked in an old jewellry box and shoved to the back of the liquor cabinet.

In the end she chose to ignore it and curled up into his side.

* * *

"Wow, you guys really got this place looking good," Claire announced as she casually dropped her coat onto the arm of the sofa. "Or should I say _you_ really got this place looking good?"

Jill laughed in response, checking the chicken she had placed in the oven.

"Food's gonna be another ten minutes."

Claire turned with a smile and sauntered into the kitchen, taking in every detail of her sister-in-law's new home. She seemed satisfied and levelled her eyes at Jill.

"You really didn't have to go to all this trouble," she told her, observing the vegetables that were simmering on the hob. Jill waved a hand, signalling that it was nothing.

"I've been bored out of my skull here, I figured I should make the most out of my time and learn to cook proper food," she explained, leaving out the excuse that cooking helped to take her mind off other matters.

"When do you go back?"

"Next Thursday. They wanted to put us through another medical before we started up again. Chris got his done before the honeymoon, I went for mine the day after we got back."

Claire hummed in feigned interest.

"I still can't imagine him going through a medical," she mused. "He was bad enough when mom tried to slap a band-aid on him."

"And lucky me has to look after him now, right?" Jill laughed, conjuring up all sorts of images in her mind.

"Just wait until winter and you have to help him through one of his killer bouts of man-flu."

They both descended into laughter, both knowing all too well how difficult Chris was when he succumbed to whatever bug was doing the rounds at the time. He could bear gunshot wounds, gaping slashes and broken bones but give him a dose of the common cold and all of a sudden he was updating his last will and testament.

"Suppose I signed up for all that," Jill said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "But in all seriousness, he's always done such a good job taking care of me when I was done. I'd gladly return the favour."

"I hope you're not talking about the times he used to show up at your apartment with a DVD and some ice cream?" Claire asked, rolling her eyes. "Because I hate to break it to you, Jilly, but he was just trying to get into your pants."

"It worked didn't it?" she replied with a wink, causing Claire to gag loudly.

Jill gazed at her contentedly and for the first time in days she felt genuine happiness trickle through her veins. She missed being able to pick up the phone and have one of her friends on her doorstep minutes later. Out here she felt so...isolated.

"It's good to see you again, Claire," she admitted. Claire simply smiled in reply and returned the sentiment.

A sharp beeping interrupted their heartwarming moment and Jill fumbled for the oven mitt, carefully removing the chicken from the oven when she found it. She smiled at the quality of the cooked poultry, pleased that at last she had done something right. Claire assisted in the draining of the vegetables and together they took their plates to the dining table and seated themselves.

"The only reason I'm eating this is because it actually looks a hell of a lot better than your old cooking," Claire reminded the older woman.

Jill was pleased at this well-disguised compliment, once again happy that the chicken looked decent and damn did it taste good. She felt silly for worrying over such a small thing, but her life had been so empty and uneventful lately that she took pleasure in the little things she _could_ do.

"Listen, I...there's something I need to tell you," Claire spoke, her voice low and barely audible. Jill looked up from her food and smiled encouragingly at her friend.

"It's actually the reason I came today. I haven't told many people yet, but..." she paused to take a slow drink, breathing deeply as she set the glass down. "You have to promise me that you won't tell Chris...not yet."

"You know I won't," Jill promised. She noted Claire's movements, nervous and apprehensive. She played with the knife she had set down on the table, turning it over and over with her fingertips.

"I'm...pregnant," she announced, an upwards inflection at the end of her statement making her sound unsure and uneasy.

Jill coughed loudly, almost choking on a well-cooked cabbage leaf. Her eyebrows raised skywards as Claire's eyes met hers and the younger girl shrugged lightly, as if to say "what are you going to do about it?".

"Pre- Wow," Jill gasped, ecstatic though her friend did not seem to share this sentiment. "Wait...this _is_ a good thing, right?"

"Yes, of course it's a good thing!" she assured her, smiling to prove her point. "I just...I'm scared. Not...not because of Chris, he can yell as much as he wants, it's not gonna make this baby regress back into a sperm and egg. I never thought I'd have kids of my own, and if I did I always thought you would be first and you could just teach me what you knew."

"You'll be fine," Jill promised. "I've seen what you're like with Rani, you'll make a great mother."

Claire smiled gratefully. She always trusted Jill to say the right thing, to diffuse any situation with little more than words and a kind voice. She was a good woman and it pained her to think of what she had been forced to go through simply because she was brave enough to sacrifice her life for a friend.

"What about you and Chris?" she asked before her thoughts got the better of her and she brought up a painful subject. "Can I excpect a niece or nephew any time soon?"

Jill's sigh did not go unnoticed and Claire perked up a little, suddenly devoting her entire attention to the conversation.

"I don't know," she admitted. "We said we were going to wait until we were settled here but to be honest, I'm ready now. I...lately I've been wondering if he even wants kids at all."

"What makes you think that?" Claire asked curiously. Jill's sudden admission didn't sound like Chris at all to her; she had known him all his life and knew that he had always wanted children, above everything else.

"I don't know," Jill sighed. "He's just been really...distant lately. Like his mind's somewhere else. I tried to bring up kids the other day and he seemed completely uninterested."

Claire's brow furrowed as she began to pick at her food again. Jill was talking nonsense and she knew it. She knew Chris too well to believe her. The guy had wanted children since he had found out how they were made and he was married to a beautiful woman he had loved almost since the day he met her. Claire found it difficult to put these factors together and come up with an answer that left her brother 'uninterested'.

"He's probably busy at the moment," she suggested. "He just started work a fortnight ago, give him some time."

She rolled her eyes as she heard another sigh come from the other side of the table. 'Here we go again...'

"It's not just that, though. He's been really distant in general."

"Like how?"

Jill thought for a moment, phrasing her response in her head before she spoke. She felt uneasy sharing her feelings with Claire, but she had started and figured she might as well finish. Her thoughts had been weighing heavy on both her heart and mind and she felt that she might actually burst if she did not share them with someone and have them reassure her that it was all in her head.

"He's been taking lots of overtime lately and when he gets home he doesn't seem to have the energy or the will to do anything other than watch stupid war movies or do more paperwork," she tried. "It's like he barely realises I'm here."

"Like he's ignoring you?" Claire's interest was piqued. Chris never shut up about Jill; even after her 'death' she was all he would talk about, remeniscing about the times they spent together and telling everyone who would listen what an amazing, strong woman she was. He was all over her when she returned, it was enough to make anyone sick. Once again, Claire found it hard to believe that her brother's interest in his enviously beautiful wife had waned since their honeymoon, but his behaviour sounded all too familiar so she decided to hear Jill out on this one.

"It's not ignoring," Jill argued, trying to explain. "It's like he knows I'm there but he barely acknowledges it. There'll be spontaneous acts of love, like a kiss when he walks through the door, but they seem so forced and the rest of the time I couldn't hold his attention if I gave him a damn lap dance."

"It can't be that bad?"

"Well, it is," she moaned wistfully as she set her knife and fork down on her empty plate. "But, maybe it's just me? I'm finding myself very...confused lately. I can't help put wonder if I'm just projecting all my problems onto him."

Claire pushed herself up from her chair and made her way towards her friend, concerned at her sudden assumption of responsibility. Jill remained seated, playing with a lock of her long blonde hair as Claire wrapped her arms around her in a friendly, reassuring hug. Jill sank into her gratefully, appreciative of the affection. Claire continued to hold her, sensing the tension in her stance. She noted that she did not fall into her embrace easily, that her body remained stiff and defensive and she almost brought this up, almost asked her if something else was bothering her. She concluded that it was none of her business.

"Damn," Jill muttered, her head resting gently on Claire's stomach. "How the hell did I not notice that bump before?"

"I dress well," she replied with a mischievous smile before pulling away. Her arms remained outstretched, with her hands on her friend's shoulders.

"I'm sure that Chris just going through a phase," she assured her. "He used to get like this all the time when he was a teenager. You've both spent so long in the field, falling back into a normal life won't be easy but if anyone can pull through it's you two. You were made for each other, anyone can see that."

Jill was unconvinced but thanked her anyway.

"Are you going to be alright?" Claire pressed, giving her an opportunity to speak up. "Because I'll listen if you want to talk more. Or if you want I can rough him up a bit for you, I'm not scared of him."

_"I'm not scared of you."_

Jill inhaled deeply, willing her memories to remain in the back of her mind.

_"I heard you were strong, capable, _brilliant_. But in the end, you're just like me...shame you can't appreciate that."_

"I-I-" Her mind seemed to freeze, every cell in her body dedicated to fighting the image that was threatening to surface.

_"You're not even fighting anymore," Irving laughed, though he did not find the situation funny in the slightest. Jill was his last chance, his only hope. He had heard about her breaking control several times, once she had almost escaped. If only he could break through, reach the heart behind the tyrant._

_Jill looked back at him, her eyes cold, her manner heartless._

_It suddenly dawned on him that there was no way out of this, not for him. If the brilliant Jill Valentine had given up then their situation was truly futile. He looked down at the test tube in his hand, and his fate suddenly seemed a little less dim. He was sure that what he would become would be magnificent, that he would crush those irritating agents and that he would live. He looked back up at Jill and realised that it wasn't so simple for her. If he killed the agents he killed her comrades, he killed her one last chance for freedom._

_But he didn't care. Jill Valentine was dead, and what remained of her wouldn't last much longer._

_"It's funny, really," he mused. "I always thought that the world would end with a bang, turns out it was only _my_ world. I gotta say, it's a hell of a lot better than your whimper."_

Jill breathed deeply, Irving's words haunting her like no memory had before. She could not help the tears that began to cascade down her cheeks and she found that her sobs could not be stifled. Claire's arms were thrown around her again, her friend whispering to her that no man was worth crying over, that everything would work out fine.

All she could do was pretend to agree, pretend that her tears were for her husband.

All the while, Irving's revelation rang in her ears.

**AN - Please review :).**


	4. Damaged

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **Once again, I got this done a lot quicker than I expected. The story will start picking up a bit from here, so I felt the extra-long chapter was necessary. It didn't feel right to split it in two. Anyway, chapter title is from a song by Plumb.

**Kenshin13** - Hopefully this longer chapter will please you :). And I agree about Jill's past in the game. Though it has been hinted that there may be a seperate ways-type scenario for RE5 as DLC so hopefully they can do that and we get to play as Jill. It's sad to think that RE5 is probably the last game she will be in, especially given her small amount of screen time. She's a great character, she deserves another game of her own :). Thank you, especially for your comment about the flashback. I've never written Wesker before (at least I can't remember) so I was nervous that I'd get him wrong.

**tek - **Thank you :). You _should_ write something! Your old fics are still amongst my favourites on here and it would be great to read something new. You know you'd have one loyal reader here :).

**MrsMoshae - **You didn't miss anything, I didn't mention the father. I was actually curious to see if anyone jumped to any conclusions. Anyway, rather than drag it out I mentioned the father in this chapter. Read on and you will find out who I prefer to pair Claire with :).

To these reviewers and also to **C. Redfield 86, Kira131, Stardust4, MarnaLouw89, Sparkle Valentine, Devil Rebel, **a HUGE thank you. I really can't tell you enough how much I appreciate you taking the time to review.

WARNING: This chapter contains strong language and scenes of a sexual nature.

_**Chapter Three - **Damaged_

_"True love is a fairytale. I'm damaged, so how would I know?"_

His body continued to feel the effects of the slumber he had awoken from only moments before. For once he was satisfied that he had experienced a good night's sleep. The sheets still clung to his naked form though they weren't needed as the temperature within the bedroom was almost unbearable, especially with his sleeping wife radiating body heat beside him. He took a moment to observe her still form, taking in the curves and muscles that had all been a blur the previous night. He did not fully understand her behaviour but she had been acting noticably strange over the past week and he had once again put it down to their sudden change of situation. Still, he found it hard to complain when she attacked him with such desperation, stripping him in a matter of seconds and throwing him down onto the bed. He barely had time to register what was going on when he realised that his hands had already removed most of her clothing and he was left with little else to do than finish the job and proceed to make love to her. Not that he was complaining.

Jill moved beside him, causing the sheets to ripple.

"Morning," Chris hummed, placing an arm around her waist and planting kisses up her neck. She brushed him off in irritation and slid off the end of the bed, pulling Chris's fallen T-shirt over her head before he knew what was going on, leaving him to sigh in frustration.

"It doesn't take much effort, you know," he called after her as she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. He heard the faint click of the lock and sat upright, completely dumfounded.

She never locked the bathroom door, never. She never had any reason to. He contemplated hammering on the door and demanding some answers but he knew that it would only serve to annoy her further. She had been in such an edgy mood lately that he dared not provoke her.

The bed suddenly seemed less inviting, though the sheets remained warm where she had lain. Chris sighed and jumped out of bed. He just didn't understand her lately; her mood swings were beginning to grate on him. It had gotten to the point where he admittedly enjoyed spending more time at work, away from the house. He missed the old Jill, the one who would greet him with a smile and genuinely enjoy his company. Though she actively sought him out, lately her affection seemed to turn to annoyance and sometimes agression in a matter of minutes. Her behaviour became increasingly erratic and Chris simply didn't know how to deal with her most of the time.

"Thank God it's Wednesday," he muttered. He hoped that her altered temperament was due to nothing more than simple boredom, boredom that would be alleviated when she returned to work tomorrow.

'Until then, I have the day off and I have to look after her,' he thought, sighing inwardly. Despite the levels of insanity he felt she was driving him to, he had begun to worry about her. She wasn't eating as often as she perhaps should have been and he had awoken several times throughout the night to find her wide awake. She had also been noticeably on edge almost constantly and would jump if he so much as touched her without warning. As a result, their sex life had obviously suffered and this only served to wind both of them up further. He only hoped that the previous night was enough to satisfy both of them until her mood improved.

Even his sister seemed to be short with him lately, but he put that down to her hormones. He was still unsure how he felt about her recently-announced pregnancy but he acknowledged that she was a grown woman and what she did with her fiancé was her own business and no one else's. It pleased him that she had settled down and was happy for once in her life and he did like Leon, he just shuddered to think of how the poor child would turn out.

"Us Redfields are far from perfect," he thought aloud, "and God knows that Leon didn't emerge from the deep end of the gene pool."

He chuckled to himself, realising too late that there was nobody around to laugh with him.

The dull hiss of the shower suddenly snapped him back to reality and he pulled on his jeans, not bothering to find another shirt. His mind wandered behind the sealed bathroom door, imagining how Jill's slender body would look with the water cascading down-

He stopped himself with the knowledge that such thoughts would only get him worked up. Had it been any other day he would have jumped in with her but there was the small matter of the locked door and the fact that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of a viscious elbow-strike.

Taking a moment to cool down, he left the room and turned into the study, careful to close the door behind him. He had found himself spending increasing amounts of time in the study, simply gazing at his old trophies or doing paperwork he didn't need to bring home with him. His wandering mind took him to the bookshelf once more and he looked over his many awards and accolades, longing to be in the position to add just a few more to his collection. Most of them were from his time with S.T.A.R.S.; various marksman competitions Wesker had entered him into. He never thought much of rewards as he never expected to be recognised for the work he did; he just did it. It was the expression of pure disbelief on Forest's face that had made him enter everything Wesker or Barry, even Enrico, suggested to him. He didn't care that he was considered the best shot in the R.P.D., he simply enjoyed the numerous one-ups it gave him against his friend and rival. They never took it seriously and would joke about it over a few beers, Chris teasing Forest for his 'lack of skill' and Forest teasing Chris for being the team 'golden boy'.

Memories flashed before his eyes as he remembered what it was like to share an office with his old rival, to be able to drop whatever they were doing and head down to shoot targets together. He remembered the thrill of fighting alongside a man who possessed a talent rivalled only by his own and was once again filled with the same sense of nostalgia that seem to haunt his days as of late.

His attention turned away from the bookshelf and to an open folder on his desk. Swearing violently, he rushed to gather its contents up, hoping and praying that Jill hadn't laid eyes on them. The realisation dawned on him that she had no chance to have browsed through the mission briefing and relaxed, laughing at his stupidity. He collapsed into the chair behind the desk and took a moment to flick through the file, regarding the photographs with great interest.

'What harm would it do?' he asked himself as he fingered the edges of the report sheet. 'It's only in Mexico, I could be in and out before she knew I was gone.'

He heard his own thoughts as they echoed in his head and froze for a moment, realising the gravity of what he was considering.

'I can't lie to her,' he told himself. 'It's Jill; I could never lie to her, not about something this big.'

Still, he found himself running out of arguments against dusting off his guns and heading into battle. He had already ignored three briefings that had found their way into his hands and each one had looked as inviting as the last. He continued to tell himself that he didn't want to lie to Jill, that he didn't want her to know that he was feeling trapped in his current predicament. Yet he found a niggling voice in the back of his head kept asking 'why?'. They had given up the fight for a normal life, yet their life was far from normal. She was acting quite selfish lately and his work was all that was keeping him distracted enough to remain civil with her. Right?

'Work's not the damn problem,' he thought. 'If I want to do this, I should do it...she can't control me.'

* * *

The bathroom was filled with an almost unbearable heat, though Jill still shivered as she exited the shower and dried herself off with a soft white towel. She took a moment to once again appreciate the fact that she was actually washing herself before she pulled her robe from the back of the door and slipped silently into it. She didn't bother with underwear and simply left Chris's T-shirt in a crumpled pile on the floor.

Images from the previous night surfaced and she pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders, lowering herself onto the lidded toilet so that she did not have to worry about balance. The feel of Chris's hands as they glided over her soft, supple skin still lingered, his phantom touch seeming almost real. She closed her eyes shamefully, wishing that she could enjoy the sensation. Just like the previous night she found it hard to appreciate his love. She had felt suffocated, claustrophobic in a way she had never felt before. One moment she was enjoying the exquisite sensation of him inside of her, the next she was wishing that it would just hurry up and be over. Her mind had been snapping between two extremes a lot lately but she never thought that it would affect anything relating to her marriage.

She could not cry as she recalled the jealousy she felt upon witnessing his pleasure and wishing that she could share in it. She did not think she had any tears left to shed. Her life had always been unstable, hell, she had no permanent home for several years. Yet since she joined S.T.A.R.S. at the age of twenty-one, Chris had been the one constant in her life. When she was ill she could rely on him being there, nursing her through the pain, and when she was injured she could always rely on him being there, scolding her for putting herself in the position to receive the injury. His touch had always banished her fears and his voice, gently whispered in her ear, had always soothed even the most persistant of aches. Now, she felt nothing.

Even she had begun to acknowledge the danger of her thoughts as her mind drifted back to the many times she had faced almost certain death yet still managed to pull through. It was not the images that scared her, it was the fact that her response was always 'Why? Why did I survive?'.

A sharp rap on the door caused her to jump a little before she moved towards it and pulled the bolt, grateful that her inner anguish had not resulted in tears.

"For you," Chris commented, smiling as he handed her the house phone. She did not reply as she took it from him and exited into their shared bedroom. Chris took the safer option of leaving the room as she spoke into the receiver.

"Jill Redfield?" an unfamiliar voice asked. She impatiently confirmed her name.

"This is Holly Parker from the BSAA medical divison," the voice informed her. "I believe you underwent a medical with us a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yes," Jill breathed with a sigh of relief. "Thank God, I thought you were never going to get back to me."

There was an extended silence on the other end of the line before Holly continued with trepidation.

"I'm afraid there's been a bit of a...well there's been a problem on our end," she spoke.

"A problem? What kind of problem?" Jill tried her best to maintain a normal tone, but her voice had already begun to shake. A problem? That was all she needed right now.

"I'm afraid that there has been a mix-up with results. We're going to have to ask you to come in so we can run some tests again."

Jill remained perfectly still with the phone clamped tightly to her ear. She tried to reply but all that came out of her mouth was air.

"Mrs. Redfield?"

"Yeah, I'm still here," she answered when she found her voice. "This...this mix-up; I can still come in to work tomorrow, right?"

Holly breathed deeply and Jill's heart sank, knowing the answer before it was spoken.

"I'm afraid that we can't allow that just yet," she explained. "Due to the nature of the organisation it is policy for all members of staff to undergo a medical before they are allowed to begin work for us, especially those involved with training such as yourself."

"But...but I'm healthy!" Jill cried as desperation took over. "I underwent an extensive series of tests just over a year ago!"

She did not notice her husband appear in the doorway, observing her with concern.

"Mrs. Redfield, I'm sorry," Holly apologised, sounding frustrated but not in the least apologetic. "It's policy, I have no control over what they say. No officer will clear you for your training duties until they have results of your medical and HQ won't allow you to work in their building until they have the same results. Given your medical history they will have extra cause for concern."

Jill's blood boiled, her fingers gripping the phone so tightly it was almost painful. Sensing her sudden change in character, Chris began to move towards her.

"My medical_ history_?" she repeated. It became apparant to Holly almost immediately that perhaps she should not have said that.

"I was infected with the T-virus eleven years ago!" she screamed, throwing off Chris's arm as he attempted to place it round her shoulders. "It was confirmed by BSAA medical officers that not only is my system virus-free but also that I'm immune to three major strains of viral technology. If anything, I'm the safest fucking person you could have in the building!"

"Mrs. Redfield, I did not mean-"

"No, you just didn't fucking _think_!" she yelled. "I suppose now you're going to say I'm not fit to work because I was tortured for two fucking years! I broke my arm when I was seven, are you going to use that against me now?"

Jill never heard Holly's answer, nor did she find out if she answered at all because at that moment Chris plucked the phone from her grasp and muttered a hasty apology to the nurse before hanging up. He then braced himself for the torrent of abuse he expected, but Jill had barely even noticed his act.

"I can't believe this," she muttered, her mind apparantly not with the here and now. "I can't believe this. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Chris risked placing a hand on her shoulder and when she did not bat it away he moved to push her gently into a seated position on the bed and knelt before her.

"They lost my results," she explained before he had the chance to ask. "I can't return to work until they redo it all...I can't- Chris, what the hell am I supposed to do until then?"

He frowned at her pessimism, looking up at her now tear-stained face.

"Jill, this isn't the end of the world," he laughed, hoping that it would ease her down a little. "I'll call them back up, make an appointment for tomorrow and you should have the results in a couple of weeks."

She glared at him through damp hair, a sign that he just didn't get what she was trying to put across.

"Can't you tell I'm bored out of my mind?" she sobbed. "There's nothing to do around here, everyone else is working and daytime television actually does suck as much as they say it does. I can't spend another two weeks like this, I just can't."

He was puzzled by her intense reaction to news that would hardly have fazed anyone else but he realised that she was upset and moved to sit beside her so that he was in a better position to hold and comfort her. She fell into him without a fight, her body limp in his arms.

"Are you alright?" he asked, genuinely worried about her. "It's not like you to get so upset over something like this."

"Is it not?" she asked curiously. "I-I'm sorry."

She moved to pull away from him but he refused to relinquish his hold on her, fear suddenly seizing him.

"Jill, talk to me," he begged as he tilted her face upwards with his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes seemed glazed, whatever lingered behind them hidden carefully and fearfully.

"If something's bothering you, tell me...please."

This time she successfully pulled away from him, looking away before turning back to him curiously. She could see the fear in his expression and it tugged on her heartstrings. Many times she had considered opening up to him, telling him of the emptiness of her world and how numb and helpless she felt. She had never spoken up before because he had always been too busy, but now... She saw the fear in his eyes as he realised that she was not herself and she knew that she could never tell him of her true feelings, lest they inflict the same level of pain and anguish upon him. She did not wish for anyone to feel the way she did, least of all the man she loved with all her heart.

'With all my heart...I wish I knew what that meant.'

She knew that she loved him but the concept of love felt so strange to her now, so alien.

No reply seemed meaningful enough to either satisfy his curiosity or to throw him off the scent so chose to satisfy her own sense of curiosity and kiss him.

He did not resist or protest, he gratefully allowed her to sink into him once more, her trembling hands tugging at his clean T-shirt. His hands were steadier than hers and moved smoothly beneath her robe, a surprised gasp escaping him when he realised that she wore nothing beneath it. A deep curiosity fuelled her as she pushed him back onto the bed, kissing him deeply and passionately. The tables were quickly turned and she found herself on her back, fumbling with his jeans as a warm, dry hand slid up the inside of her thigh. She caught on to his intentions and pushed his hand away, not wanting any benefits this time. He smiled mischeviously in response and allowed her to straddle him as he kicked his jeans off, his boxers following suit.

"I love you," he reminded her, his large hands resting gently on her hips. A kiss cancelled out the need for a verbal reply. Once again he took the opportunity to reverse their situation and rolled her over, his heavy frame pinning her comfortably to the bed. She could feel his erection against her leg, her mind drawn to that one spot but the accompanying thoughts not pleasing her. She did not shiver in anticipation, she didn't wordlessly beg him to speed things up...in fact, she couldn't care less what happened next.

Small kisses were placed down her neck as he moved down. His lips smoothed over the damaged skin on her chest, noting how it had healed considerably in the past year. he did not allow his thoughts to dwell on this too long, too caught up in the fervent heat of the moment to ruin it. She groaned beneath him, the sound almost feral. A hand moved up the side of his face, fingers sliding in to his thick hair. He certainly didn't expect them to bend, to pull his head away as she moved from beneath him, quickly covering herself with her robe.

He looked up at her questioningly and all she could do was babble in response.

"I-I can't," she sighed, sounding as frustrated as he felt. Several curses entered her thoughts, her body craving the pleasure that her mind was denying her.

Rather than showing his annoyance at her, as he felt he should, he moved beside her and pulled her close. She allowed herself to become lost in the heat of his body, finding it strange how she derived more pleasure from a simple embrace than she did from sex.

"Do you need to finish off?" she asked, knowing how worked up she must have gotten him.

"I don't think I need to," he sighed, looking down. The disappointment and his worry had completely killed the moment.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I think I'm still worn out from last night." It was a blatant lie and he saw through it but the answer he saw instead was not what she had in mind.

"Yeah," was all he could mutter, suddenly annoyed by the thought that he couldn't even turn his own wife on. He recalled the previous night once more, remembering how unresponsive and cold she had been. What had he done? It seemed convenient somehow that his mind drifted back to his work, remembering how confident he had felt when he actually used his body in the way it had been trained for. Now he was failing to use it to please the woman he never wanted to disappoint...

He sat up, the thought becoming too humiliating to bear.

"I better get dressed," he announced. "I have to go to work."

"What?" Jill half-shouted. "It's your day off!"

"Yeah, I promised I'd help DeLaney with something, though," he lied. Truth was, he just needed to get away for a few hours.

He moved away before Jill could protest further, leaving her alone to her confused thoughts.

* * *

"Wasn't today his day off?" Anna asked. She quietly sipped from the cup of coffee that Jill had made for her, too polite to say that she had asked for tea.

Anna King was the Redfield's immediate neighbour, her husband Travis already having become good friends with Chris. The boys had bonded over their military background, Chris's with the Air Force and Travis's with the Marines. On the other hand, Anna and Jill found themselves to have a lot in common with each other, from being raised by their fathers to things as trivial as their shared love of retail therapy.

"Yeah, that's what he said," Jill replied, failing to hide her annoyance.

"Oh?" Anna's interest was evident in every move she made, she even set down her coffee to give her full attention to her neighbour. If there was one thing that Anna loved, it was gossip. It was thanks to Anna that Jill knew the goings-on of most of the nieghbourhood women. Though Anna had admitted that Jill was the only woman in the neighbourhood who was 'one-hundred percent real' and would not divulge anything Jill confided in her without her expressed consent. Still, she did love to hear gossip even if it did prove useless to her.

"I don't know," Jill sighed. "It's more me than him. I mean, we've barely been married two months but it feels as though the spark is fading already."

"What did he do?" Anna asked bluntly. Jill reacted in surprise, asking her to repeat what she had said.

"Well, let's be honest, Chris is gorgeous," she explained. "There's no way you could have lost interest in him already so I'm assuming he has done something."

Jill sighed. If only it were that simple.

"Well, he has been pouring himself into his work lately," she admitted. "And when he is home I don't feel like he's all there, if you get what I mean. It's like his mind is somewhere else."

Anna thought for a moment, but came up with nothing, no advice she could offer the other woman.

"Have you tried talking to him?" she asked.

"I can't," Jill replied. "I just can't, I- He wouldn't listen, he wouldn't care. I can't talk to him anymore."

Anna observed Jill carefully, noticing her nervous fidgeting and her short, shallow breaths.

"In that case, are you sure it's him who has the problem?"

"I never said that either of us was the problem," Jill reminded her, slightly offended at the suggestion.

"Maybe I should have phrased it differently," Anna apologised. "Is there something that's bothering you, something you haven't discussed with him?"

Jill's breaths deepened as she realised how dead on her assumption was. She had no desire to discuss her feelings with a woman she barely knew but she felt as though she should give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Sort of," she answered, downplaying her feelings. "Two years ago I was rescued from captivity. In total, I was in enemy hands for two years."

"Africa," Anna whispered as she acknowledged the event she spoke of. Jill faltered a little, surprised that she knew so much.

"I remember reading about it after your rescue," she explained. "I...recognised you from somewhere the first time we met and Travis suggested that it was you. I didn't want to say anything incase you didn't want to talk about it. For what it's worth, I never told anyone else, either, and neither did Travis. He spent time as a hostage himself and...well, he didn't like to talk about it. I'm sorry about what happened to you."

Jill smiled politely and chose not to respond directly to her statement.

"The man who kidnapped me, he was...evil," she whispered, continuing with her story. "He used me to carry out his work, forced me to do things, horrible things. Lately, they have been all I can think about. Chris would...he would never understand. If he knew, he would hate me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Anna protested. "If he loves you he will at least try to understand."

"You don't know what this man put us through, both of us. He murdered our friends, betrayed us. I'm begining to wonder if I remind Chris of him, of all that we fought to destroy. Maybe that is why he is so distant?"

"I can't listen to this," Anna coughed as she drained the last of her coffee. "You're talking stupid now. Jill, I've seen the way he looks at you; he _adores_ you. I see no hatred in his expression, no blame, only love. Question is, do you love him?"

"What?" Jill shouted, not hiding her offence. "Of course I do! He's everything to me!"

"Then what's the problem?"

Jill thought for a moment, Anna's words weighing heavy on her heart and conscience. She had a point. If they loved each other, there was no problem. At least there shouldn't be.

"Stop trying to find a problem and just enjoy the time you have together," Anna advised. "And for God's sake, stop blaming yourself. You should also consider talking to him, telling him how you feel, how he is making you feel. You don't want your memories to resurface, not like this."

Jill neglected to mention that it was too late for that, but she took in her friendly advice and set her mind to work. The sudden need to apologise to her husband arose and she began to think of some way to make it up to him, to set up a situation where she could talk to him, to be honest for the first time in much too long.

She breathed deeply, the news of the impending resolution of her problems so refreshing to her. The relief sank in deep, soothing her troubled mind and allowing her enough freedom to begin to plan a meal. The solution seemed perfect; it would afford her the perfect opportunity to talk to him when there was nothing else to distract him. Perhaps if she was lucky they could continue where they left off earlier...

"I have four hours," she realised. The second hand on her watch suddenly seemed to tick that little bit faster and she was overcome with a sudden sense of urgency.

"I need...I need to get ready," she panicked. Anna laughed at her.

"I'll get out of your hair," she giggled. "Good luck, and let me know how it goes."

* * *

Chris's heavy boots thudded against the carpet, beating his frustration into the weave. He knew that it was too much to ask for a few hours of peace. No sooner had he walked through the doors, three of his colleagues had descended on him, arms full of paperwork they were simply desperate to shift. Being the generous worker that he was, he agreed to file it all away and gave up all hope of being home within a couple of hours.

He felt a little guilty for leaving Jill behind, more so for the things they had left unsaid. His thoughts at the time had seemed rational, but looking back he knew that he could have handled the situation differently. Perhaps she genuinely _was_ worn out and that his finding another reason behind her eyes had been little more than paranoia. He concluded that he would apologise, just as soon as he could get away from the records that needed filing and the files that needed signing.

"Hey, Redfield!"

He let out an annoyed grunt, begging all that was holy that Greg simply wished to say goodbye.

"Whatever it is, don't ask," he told him before he was able to speak. "I'm off home now, like I should have been an hour ago."

Greg raised an eyebrow in disbelief, daring Chris to give him a reason why going home was better than what he had to offer.

"Did you take a look at the file?" he asked, pushing an issue he should have left well alone.

"Yeah, I did," Chris lamented. "I'm sorry, Greg, I just can't do it."

To his surprise Greg merely waved a hand nonchalantly and gave out a small "meh".

"There'll be plently more," he consoled, failing to pick up on the tension that seemed to be radiating from his colleague. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something a little closer to home; a favour, if you will."

"I'm listening," Chris muttered, though this was only half-true.

"I was meant to take a group of recruits through the basics this afternoon but I had to delay," he explained. "Well, I've delayed long enough but now it looks like I can't do it. One of the kids came home with a black eye, Jane's in a panic...it's a mess, I've got to get off and sort it out. Trouble is, I need their times by tomorrow morning. you couldn't do a quick run with them before you head off, could you?"

"Training?" Chris echoed, the thought sounding more appealling to him than he thought it would. "But I don't start on the training circuit 'til next week."

"Wouldn't hurt to have a head start, would it?"

"True. Wait, no. No, I can't, I've got to get back to Jill, today was supposed to be my day off."

Greg stared intently at his comrade, his aged features contorted into a pleading expression. Chris sighed as he realised that he just couldn't say no to him. It was like Greg had said, he had a good heart and could not refuse a friend in need.

"What do I have to do?" he sighed, resigning himself to another late night. Greg clapped his hands together before placing an arm around him and guiding him down the hall.

"There's only three of them," he explained, keeping his voice low. "I need lap times on both land and water, full gear, and I need weapons detail. It's simple enough, I just need to know which level to put them in for when they get sent to the big guys."

"Track _and_ pool?" Chris complained. The idea suddenly seemed less inviting. "Greg, that's gonna take ages."

"Just do track first, then pool, so they won't have to change their gear. If you get tired, try and hook someone else. Weapons doesn't matter so much, I can get Hutchinson to put them through that in the morning, but I _need_ those times."

The timing worried Chris and his mind drifted back to Jill, who was no doubt bored out of her mind and growing more irritated by the second. But his head and his heart were telling him to help out Greg. Family was important and he knew that Greg would have done the same had he been in that situation. It was a simple time collection, how long could it take?

When Greg jogged off towards the main desk, Chris made his way to the changing rooms, ready to collect his new recruits. His feelings were still unclear on the situation with Jill, his head and his heart both seeming to have different opinions on the matter. No matter how much he tried to quiet them both, his head felt ready to explode. He found it so much easier to just ignore the situation and deal with it should a problem arise. His head told him that this was a bad idea but at that point he quite frankly didn't give a shit. He was too stressed out, too worked up to deal with anything that did not pose an immediate problem.

As he lowered himself onto a pristine wooden bench, he pulled his cell out of his pocket and began to dial.

* * *

The dining room almost gleamed from the thorough cleaning she had subjected it to. It was spotless, not a particle of dirt visible, not even a single napkin out of place. She had tried her best to dress up their boring dining table by throwing a table cloth over it and even placing a few candle holders on its surface and she had to admit, it looked fantastic. The sweet aroma of her homemade pasta sauce drifted through from the kitchen and she dashed inside, turning down the heat so that it would gently simmer until Chris arrived. Her meal of choice had been simple; fresh tagliatelle with a homemade pasta sauce and bread made fresh in her kitchen using the breadmaker her aunt had bought them as a wedding gift. She had never used it before and had honestly never thought she would, but she had time and thought it would be nice to try something new. All in all, she felt that she had made something quite special and was almost giddy with anticipation.

The food now under control, she stood before the mirror in the living room, pulling at her hair and generally fussing over her appearance. She had picked out her favourite top for the occasion and had carefully applied a small amount of make up. If she was making an effort with the food, she figured that she should also make an effort with her appearance. The black camisole that she had picked out displayed her cleavage tastefully and for once she did not mind the scars that caught the light every time she moved.

A steady finger ran along the surface of the most prominent scar; a small, circular shape above her left breast. They were almost healed enough to undergo laser removal surgery and she was desperate for the time to come when she would finally be rid of them. Her body bore many scars, most of them small and unnoticable, and many of those scars had been obtained in the line of duty. She was proud of them, proud of the reminders of the many lives she had saved and the many dangers she had escaped from unscathed. Her experiences had, for the most part, shaped who she was and she did not want to turn her back on these memories for the sake of flawless skin. Of course, her skin was pretty damn flawless anyway, the scars that she thought of fondly reduced to little more than blemishes thanks to her period in Excella's cryogenic tube. The scars she could not bring herself to come to terms with, however, were those on her chest. Chris had commented many times on how they were barely noticable, how nobody would seem them unless they knew what to look for, but she knew that they were there and that bugged her. She was not proud of what she had been forced to do prior to obtaining those scars and she was desperate to rid herself of the constant reminder that stared her in the face every time she looked into the mirror.

She smiled to herself as thoughts of her husband drifted to the forefront of her mind. She felt lucky to be with a man who didn't care how she looked, who had brushed off her change of hair colour and new scars as though they were nothing. With Chris she knew it was the real deal.

The house phone chirped to life, startling her slightly. Ignoring her own stupidity, she answered it in the cheeriest voice she could manage.

"Hey babe," Chris sighed, causing a welcome shiver to pass through Jill's body.

"Hey yourself," she purred in response. "Look, I'm really sorry about earlier."

"Ah, don't be," he told her. "It happens, you know."

'Not to us,' she thought, shaking off the idea before it turned dangerous.

"Yeah. Will you be long? I really wanted to talk to you."

She heard him sigh again and perched herself on the arm of the sofa, playing nervously with her hair. She scolded herself for feeling so nervous, reminding herself that he was her husband and not some high school crush. Still, she had worked herself into a tizzy over the past four hours, and it had taken her the best part of three to work out how she would approach the matter. In the end she thought it best to come straight out with the truth and finish with an apology.

"That's actually why I rang," he spoke, stretching his words out.

"Is something wrong?"

"What? No, no, I just...Greg needed a favour and, well...I'm not gonna be home 'til late."

Jill exhaled slowly, counting to ten in her head, just like Anna had told her to.

"How late?" she asked innocently.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. His voice indicated that he was not too happy about the idea but she failed to pick up his frustration, too caught up in her own thoughts to notice. "I wouldn't wait up. Greg wants me to chase some rookies round the track, I don't know how long it will take."

Her voice caught in her throat as she raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, silently begging her tears to hold off until their conversation was over.

"Jill?"

"I'm here," she gasped. "Just hurry up, get home as fast as you can."

'Before I talk myself out of this.'

"I will," he promised. "If I get off early I'll give you a call, okay? If you haven't eaten I could bring back some take out."

"Sure," she told him, his meaningless words meaning less than nothing at that moment. "Whatever. Later."

She hung up before he could say goodbye and placed the phone gently onto the back of the sofa. The tears that she had felt moments ago had seemingly evaporated, the same numb feeling that had taken her hours and a hell of a lot of hope to chase away returning, sealing every emotional break that had occured in that short space of time. A still silence descended upon the house, her footsteps barely breaking the calm as she trudged towards the kitchen.

The power light on the oven flickered off as she turned off the heat, grasping the pan with a single trembling hand. In one swift, fluid motion she poured her pasta sauce into the bin, watching it fall ominously before it spattered against the sides. The tagliatelle followed and she pushed the bread to the back of the bench, not even bothering to cut it.

The table begged for her attention, the cutlery that had been carefully laid out catching the light from above. She remained silent, barely even drawing a breath as her fingers slid over the cool metal.

_"Don't make me feed you myself."_

_"Fuck you," she spat, the venom in her voice barely conveying the hatred that she felt within. Her body ached from the many bones that had recently healed, the effects of the medication she had been given slowly wearing off. It never occured to her to ask for more, in fact she welcomed the pain. It was all that reminded her that she was still alive._

_"I _will_ force feed you, Valentine, believe me when I say that," Wesker spoke. His voice was as calm as it had always been and this irritated the life out of her. She could tell that he was beyond the capability to feel human emotions now. Either that or he no longer knew what they meant. Over the past few months he had cared for her in a manner that would have been touching had the circumstances been any different, but even the kindest of actions dripped with a malevolent evil. The sheer fact that he had kept her alive this long, had saved her from almost certain death, frightened her more than the fall that had brought her there. He was up to no good and she knew it. He hated her and it was this knowledge that worried her more than anything; if he went out of his way to keep one of his sworn enemies alive when he could have simply let her rot on the rocks below the Spencer Estate or drift hopelessly out to sea, then it meant that his plans were important...and Albert Wesker rarely placed much importance on anything even when he was human._

_"Why are you keeping me here?" she asked._

_Wesker smiled reassuringly, a gesture so sweet it sickened her to the bone._

_"Jill, Jill, Jill," he sighed as he raised a hand to brush her cheek. Her skin seemed to crawl, a knot forming in her chest as she painfully struggled to move out of his reach. "You always were one of my favourites. It seemed such a waste for you to die from something as simple as a fall. I rescued you, perhaps you should show me a little more gratitude."_

_He laughed at her pitiful struggle, moving the backs of his fingers down her cheek and onto her neck, purely for the purpose of winding her up. Her appetite almost completely depleted by this point, she jerked vilently against her restraints, forcing a doctor to rush through the door and tighten the binding around her chest. Further immobilised, she found it impossible to move away from her captor._

_"What are you going to do to me?" she begged, the fear in her voice eliciting a laugh from Wesker._

_"Oh, don't worry, Valentine," he sighed as his fingers wound around a lock of dark brown hair, following it down to the tip. The backs of his gloved fingers brushed against the top her her left breast, sending a fresh wave of fear through her body._

_"I have no interest in using you in the ways you are no doubt fearing," he assured her, a small comfort that meant almost nothing to her. __The fingers disappeared, leaving her shaking form strapped to the bed in an uncomfortable manner. "I'm not that kind of monster and, beautiful as you are, you're not my type. No, I have a far greater use for you. You never failed to impress me with your strength, you agility, your resiliance. Even your beauty is flawless, a perfect specimen of woman if I were asked to label you. Your genetics are no doubt superior to the common muck that is sent my way almost daily. You will be a perfect test subject for my new little project."_

_"P-project?" she stammered, a different kind of fear seizing her. She had seen the results of Umbrella's experimentation on humans and it wasn't exactly pretty. Images of her mutated body tearing through the lab suddenly flickered before her and the colour drained from her face._

_"If you do prove worthy, which I am sure you will, you will be just like me," he continued. The happiness in his voice confused Jill and she was unsure if he was happy at the thought of her becoming what she would define as a tyrant or if he was simply in love with the sound of his own voice. Knowing Wesker, she did not doubt that both of these scenarios were true._

_"No," she pleaded. "You have me, now just kill me. Isn't that what you want?"_

_"It was. Now you have given me a whole new world of possibilities."_

_"You self-righteous bastard, you don't know what you're fucking with," she snarled. "They'll come looking for me, they'll find me and they'll rip you apart."_

_His smile broadened, much to her surprise and he reached behind him to pull something off the shelf. Leaning over to unbuckle her chest restraint, he unfolded the newspaper and glanced at the front page in satisfaction._

_"Haven't you heard?" he asked as he placed the broadsheet infront of her. "You're dead."_

_She leaned forward, an act made possible due to the absence of her chest restraint, and noticed that her picture was displayed prominently on the front page of the Harvardville News._

**_BSAA 'Original Eleven' Agent Perishes In Tragic Accident_**

_Bile rose in her throat as she turned the page and continued to read, scanning the article for the most important details._

**_'Decorated agent Jill Valentine sacrifices her life to save partner.'_**

**_'Seeing the danger her partner was in, she chose to make the ultimate sacrifice and tackled their enemy out of a nearby window.'_**

**_'After three months of searching, Valentine's body was not recovered and the BSAA were faced with no choice but to announce her passing.'_**

**_'It is believed that the bodies of both Valentine and terrorist leader Albert Wesker were carried out to sea by strong tides.'_**

**_'Agent Christopher Redfield is currently on personal leave from his duties as he mourns the passing of his partner of ten years.'_**

**_'The BSAA have announced plans to award Valentine a post-humous medal of valour reserved for only the bravest of soldiers.'_**

_"This...this is impossible," she cried._

_Her eyes flitted over the photographs attached to the article, landing on one in particular. It appeared to be from some sort of memorial service; both Chris and Leon Kennedy were in clear view, a solemn look on both men's faces. Her heart sank as she gazed at Chris, picking up on the sorrow in his expression. She wanted nothing more that to reach into the photograph, to tell him that she was alive and well, to just hold him and make his pain go away._

_Teardrops fell onto the newspaper, sobs of pure despair shaking her entire body. Wesker pulled the newspaper away and tossed it onto a nearby table._

_"Nobody is coming for you, Jill," he translated. "Nobody even knows you're alive. They're not going to help you this time."_

_"Chris," she sobbed, refusing to believe his words. "Chris would never leave me behind, he would never- He would never..."_

_"He loved you," Wesker laughed. "Yet he put himself in a compromising position, one which you chose to rectify by tackling me out of a window. He watched you fall, with your arms around me, he watched you hit the surf, heard the waves as they carried your body onto the rocks. I kept an eye on him for a while and I have to hand it to him, he searched so damn hard. He barely slept for weeks. His pain was...exquisite. It was far more satisfying that killing him would have proven. I thought he may have become a thorn in my side, I thought his anger would drive him towards me. I never expected him to react the way he did; all those nights he would sit patiently on the boat, clutching your fallen hat. It was pitiful. It still amazes me the depths to which humans will sink when their lives are torn asunder."_

_Jill sobbed violently, images of Chris's suffering seeming to flash through her mind like a violent storm. The pain she had felt when her body had been broken did not compare to that which seized her at that moment. She wanted to scream "Liar!" but she could not manage to choke out a sound._

_"He isn't coming for you," Wesker told her flatly. "Nobody is. Chris can't help you this time."_

_He pushed her lightly back, careful not to aggravate any internal wounds that may have still been healing._

_"Now eat your damn food."_

Jill's body began to shake violently, breathing almost impossible at that moment. She clenched her hands into a fist, the tablecloth the only barrier between her nails and her skin.

Wesker had been right all along; nobody was going to help her. Chris _couldn't_ help her and she had been foolish to entertain the idea that he would.

"I hate you," she growled through clenched teeth, the image of her former captor still fresh in her mind. "I hate what you made me, I hate how you used me, I hate how you hurt him, how you're still tormenting me when you're burning in hell...I despise you."

In a flash she tugged at the tablecloth, sending the decorations across the table, some flying through the air, others falling back to the table with a clatter. Furiously, she grabbed the candleholders and flung them against the wall, watching glass rain down on the scene as the painting she had hung above the table exploded from the impact. Cutlery whizzed past her, wood splintering when she caught a solitary chair and sent it speeding towards the kitchen.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins with a delightful fury. It fuelled her rage, powered the gut-wrenching scream that she let forth. When she had the energy to scream no more she collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor, ignoring the pain that throbbed violently in her temples.

The sobs that were torn from her shook her entire body, their intensity bringing aches and pains to her back. She did not spare another throught for the destruction around her and thought only of the dismal emptiness that filled her.

'Why can't I feel _anything_?'

It was all she could do keep more painful memories at bay, but the thoughts that haunted the empty recesses of her mind provided little consolation. Once again her mind drifted back to her husband, guilt consuming her as she considered the pain that had been evident in that one blurry photograph. Flickers of their earlier altercation joined these images and she realised how distant their relationship had grown in the small space of a few weeks. It pained her to realise that the one constant in her life was slowly slipping away and that she had no control over it. She loved Chris, deeply and desperately, and the thought of losing him promised an agony even she could not imagine.

The road she found herself staring down was dark and dismal and for the first time she realised that she was truly walking it alone.

**AN - Please review :).**


	5. Save You

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN** - I'll warn you now, this is a beast of a chapter, lol. I cut it in half because it was proving to be too long but then I realised that certain scenes fit better in this chapter than they do in the next (in other words, the whole barbecue) and before I knew it I'm looking at a chapter with a word count that almost gave me a heart attack. I hope you enjoy it, anyway, and I hope you all had a good Easter. Chapter title is from a song by Kelly Clarkson.

**Sparkle Valentine - **Haha, you're not lame. And don't worry, I'm usually posting chapters at 3am. I swear I'm living in the wrong time zone, lol. Thank you for reviewing.

**Ryoko Metallum -** Your review made me smile so much :). I'm so glad that I seem to be getting Wesker right, I've always been reluctant to write him incase I screwed up. All I can say is that if you like heartless Wesker, you'll probably love this chapter.

Also, a _huge_ thank you to** Devil Rebel, tek, axeleonth, Stardust4, MarnaLouw89, Kenshin13, xmenrocks and Kira131.**

_**Chapter Four - **Save You_

_"__I can tell how much you hate this, and deep down inside you know it's killing me."_

Chris never was good at fixing things, so the near-perfect chair before him surprised him completely; it looked almost new. He was still unsure as to how it had broken in the first place, only buying Jill's excuse of "I sat on it and it collapsed" for the sake of preventing an argument. He had all but given up hope of trying to hold a conversation with her long enough to get a sensible answer.

Tentatively, he lowered himself onto the wooden seat, pleased when it held his weight. He then carried it back into the dining room and set it beneath the table.

"Barry said to show up at about four," Jill told him as she jogged down the stairs, phone in hand. "Oh, you fixed the chair?"

"Good as new," he announced proudly, though he did not expect a compliment. Sure enough, she seemed disinterested as she dropped down onto the sofa.

"I didn't think you'd bother," she muttered. He was unsure whether or not she had intended for him to hear her, but he had. Her little comments had began to irritate him, silently whittling away at his self-respect and generally making him feel like a big joke. Once again, he dared not confront her about them and honestly wouldn't know _how_ to handle it. He would come across as either whiny or nagging and he didn't want her to think of him in that way.

"Kathy wants us to bring some beer, so we should probably set off early," she shouted.

"Sure," Chris muttered to himself, taking a seat at the dining table. He heard the TV flicker to life and decided against joining her. He had no intention of subjecting himself to more abuse than was necessary and she would only blame him for interrupting her program should he dare to show her some affection. Greg's latest job seemed more and more appealing to him by the day but Jill's behaviour made the idea seem even more unattainable. It was not her temper that he feared, nor the thought of how she would react if she found out. It was fear for her that kept him rooted to the spot. He could tell that she had changed, but he felt completely helpless and had no idea how to approach the situation. Should he just come straight out and demand that she open up or should he wait for her to come to him herself? He was scared to touch her, and that was the honest truth. He did not know if she would explode or shatter and he didn't think himself capable of handling either outcome.

His hands curled in front of him on the table, and he looked down at the ring on his left hand. The fingers of his right hand traced the warm metal, remembering the commitment they had made. It was a commitment he had been afraid to make for so long, but when she came back to him he knew that he needed to act. There was no regret attached to his actions and despite the stress brought on by planning their wedding, he would do it all over again.

"Damn it," he swore in a low whisper. "Why the hell do I love you so much?"

He found himself missing the woman he had married, missing her laugh and the life that seemed to have drained from her since the move.

The sound of the television was cut off abruptly, snapping his attention to the living area. He watched as Jill stood up and ascended the stairs without so much as a glance in his direction.

He let out an annoyed huff and took her place on the sofa, turning the television back on and flicking through the channels. He hated being stuck inside on weekends, but he didn't have much of a choice. At least there was the Burtons' barbecue later. He mentally thanked his old friend for giving them an excuse to do something together. Jill had not wanted to attend at first but it had occured to Chris that meeting with their friends over beef and beer would do her the world of good and he had managed to persuade her eventually. It would also be the first time he had seen either his sister or Leon since the announcement of their 'news' and he had mentally made a note to pull the younger man aside and make sure that he would be taking good care of his sister and unborn niece or nephew.

All in all, the barbecue promised to be a good night.

There was nothing on the television that appealed to him or held his interest long enough to be rendered worthy of watching. It only served to remind him that he was trapped inside with nothing to do and nobody to share in his boredom.

* * *

She rose from her slumber to find that she was not alone. Chris lay on one side next to her, facing her though not touching her. It amazed her how he was able to nap after he spent so long in bed in the morning.

'Maybe he just wanted to be close to you?'

She scoffed at the idea and told herself not to be silly. They had not embraced, had not made love, had barely even _kissed_ in the past week and she had yet to pick up on any sign that it was bothering him. Resigning herself to the situation, she learned not to expect much out of him. Though she greatly appreciated the warmth that his still form provided and even attemped to move closer to him and resume her own nap.

Warm breath tickled her forehead, his quiet breathing the only sound she cared to acknowledge. The sudden longing to embrace him overcame her and she found it increasingly difficult not to bury her head in his neck and apologise for everything. She did not think that she had anything to apologise _for_, but at that moment she was willing to do anything to make him look at her with love in his eyes, and not the fearful, apprehensive looks she had been receiving lately. It was as though she was a ticking time bomb that he did not want to get too close to.

Remembering several of the reasons why she was annoyed with him, she groaned in frustration and pushed herself away from the bed. If he wanted to be distant she didn't want to stop him, convincing herself that it was better off this way.

He continued to snooze behind her as she left the room, closing the door quietly in an impulsive act of kindness; she did not wish to wake him.

Voices drifted up the stairs, having floated in through the window she had left open to let some fresh air in. Laughter sooned joined it and she couldn't bring herself to go downstairs, knowing that her neighbours would drag her outside as soon as they saw her. She didn't much feel like faking pleasantries, not today. Instead, she turned into the study and took a seat at the large desk.

The study was not a room she often ventured into, having no need since she had yet to return to work. It was a very masculine space, decorated with the many medals Chris and herself had been awarded and a cabinet in the corner proudly displayed their S.T.A.R.S. firearms; two Samurai Edge Berettas, still bearing the S.T.A.R.S. insignia. They were joined by an old Winchester hunting rifle that had once belonged to Chris's father. Her father in law had never been a fan of hunting but the gun had belonged to _his_ father and was somewhat of a family heirloom. It seemed almost appropriate that Claire should inherit her mother's locket and Chris should inherit his grandfather's rifle. The Winchester had not been used in years and Jill often wondered if it had any kick left in it.

She tore her eyes away from the guns and rested her head in her hands. A steady, pounding pulse beat rhymically in her temples. It was not a pleasant feeling but it was one she had learned to tolerate. Nothing she attempted could calm her down enough to stop the headaches.

"Think positive," she whispered. It was worth a shot.

She blinked hard and waited for her vision to clear before she began to explore the desk in an attempt to find _something_ to occupy herself with. The desk proved to be annoyingly empty, with bills and other boring paperwork piled in one corner and a few pens shoved into a pot in another. Chris's laptop remained lifeless infront of her. She considered turning it on for a moment and indulging in a little retail therapy but she knew that she would only end up sending her purchases back.

Her fingers drummed incessantly on the desk, fingernails beating a steady rhythm into the mahogany. The sound did little to settle her nerves so she stopped, dragging the pads of her fingers across the smooth surface of the desk and down to the cabinet beneath it. A quick tug at the handle showed her that it was locked and she frowned with unwelcome surprise.

"What the hell?"

She did not know where the key was; she never intended to lock the damn thing. It had obviously been Chris who had locked it, though she could not think of any reason for him to do so. Her curiosity piqued, she jogged over to the gun cabinet and opened a small drawer on the front with a key she produced from the bookcase. Her old lockpick set remained where she had left it, sandwiched between boxes of ammo she hoped they never had the need to use. She possessed the ability to open most locks with little more than a hairpin or a paperclip but she had kept her old set because of the personal value it held; it had been a birthday gift from Chris. It seemed somewhat ironic that she would use it to undo his work.

She set to work on the simple lock, picking it in a matter of seconds. The simplicity of it annoyed her and she tried to ignore the mischevious shot of adrenaline that rushed through her veins. It was the most alive she had felt in weeks.

'No need to fall back into old habits,' she told herself, remembering where her father had ended up thanks to the same thoughts and a little boredom. Despite how much she loved and respected her father, she swore that she would never end up like him.

She set her tools aside and opened the door as she knelt before it. The battered novel she had been looking for remained untouched on the top shelf but her curiosity caused her to disregard it and explore the other contents.

The first item that caught her attention was an old box with the S.T.A.R.S. and R.P.D. logos printed onto the side. The years had obviously been kind to it, the print bearing no signs of ageing and the only evident damage was a slight fraying of the corners. She pulled it out curiously and removed the lid without a second thought.

At first sight it appeared to be little more than a photo box and she pulled them out one by one, trying to ignore the guilt that began to creep up on her. Chris rarely opened up about his past, rarely talked about his parents, so she was torn between a morbid curiosity and stinging guilt when faced with memories he obviously kept close to his heart. The first photograph she laid eyes on showed a young boy, no older than three, resting on the legs of an unknown woman. The photograph did not show their face but the possessiveness in their grip on the child suggested that it was their mother. It was obvious who the boy was; even as a child he still sported that quirky smile. She laughed quietly, never having imagined him as a child before.

The next photograph showed a couple, the woman holding a small baby to her chest while the man held on to a very uncomfortable looking Chris. The next showed a skinny teenaged boy fighting off a young girl. She continued through the pile, smiling with interest as she watched Chris evolve from a gawky pre-teen to a muscular eighteen-year-old in army gear. She recognised some of the faces, picking out the Air Force friends that had been at their wedding and acknowledging the various aunts and uncles that had also been present at their nuptuals. There weren't many photographs of his Air Force days as she had stashed most of them in with their S.T.A.R.S. team photos when she had begun sorting out their photo albums. Still, she knew that these photographs were different. They showed a side of Chris that had been less evident since the mansion incident; a hopeful, boyish attitude and the sense that nothing could wipe that smirk off his face. It was a side of him that seemed to return with a vengeance after her rescue, but lately it had completely gone into recession.

Her heart fluttered lightly in her chest as she pulled a familiar photograph out of the box. She looked so young that she barely recognised herself. It was taken several months after she had joined the S.T.A.R.S. team, on a camping trip in the Arklay Forest Wesker had forced them to take as a 'team building' exercise. Of course, their captain had conveniently sat that one out. The glow of the campfire lit up their faces, an open sleeping bag draped around their shoulders as Chris's arm held her to him, their eyes locked as they shared a private joke. It was an innocent photograph but the way that she mirrored Chris's goofy grin made it evident that they were completely and utterly happy in each other's company...perhaps too happy.

It surprised her when she continued to remove photographs and was greeted by several more of her, ranging from casual days in the office at the R.P.D. to her fully decked out in BSAA gear. The sight turned morbid as she removed the last photograph, a candid shot of Joseph spraying her and Richard with a dented can of beer, and uncovered what lay beneath.

She had not seen any articles pertaining to her 'death' other than the one Wesker had shown her, so the sight of her obituary unnerved her slightly. The words were enough to bring tears to her eyes, but it still felt uncomfortable to her to read it. She cast it aside quickly and rifled through the few objects that remained. A matchbox, tickets to a movie she had seen with him alone back in Raccoon, and many more seemingly meaningless items. She recognised every one of them, having collected a few of them herself. They were all items from various dates they had been on, whether official or unofficial (such as the time Brad bailed on them and they were forced to sit through a movie alone). He had obviously collected a few of his own, but many items were ones she herself had retained and assumed to have lost after her disappearance.

'He kept them all...'

She sniffed loudly, wiping back her tears as she packed the box up again and slid it back into the cupboard. Guilt gripped her once again, having been reminded of the simple things that had made her fall so deeply in love with him and how he shared this sentiment.

Her eyes remained on the box for a moment longer before they slipped down to a pile of papers. It occured to her that perhaps she had probed too far, but she figured that she was already in and it didn't make sense to just leave back out now.

A copy of their marriage certificate rested beside the box and a paper copy of the 'posthumous' award she had received lay underneath it. But it was brown paper folder that caught her attention. Curiously, she pulled it from its resting place and unwound the treasury tag that kept it sealed.

"What the-?"

The peace she had felt mere moments before dissolved and left her with a sense of betrayal. It had been three years since she had seen papers similar to those before her but she recognised the layout and the information that was printed onto them. Destination details, objectives, photographs of suspects and buildings that had been under surveillance. It was a mission briefing file, that she was sure of.

She knew for a fact that Chris did not work in the same department that dealt with briefings; he worked in the same department she was signed up with! She also knew for a fact that the only time any agent would take a briefing home would be if it was handed to them as an option of work or if the agent had agreed to participate in that mission.

Rage bubbled within her, images of her partner's kind collection torn from her mind completely. She dropped the file, pulling out another that had lain beneath it, then another and another. There were five folders in total; five destinations, five missions...and every single one of them was signed by Greg DeLaney.

"That meddling son of a bitch," she fumed. She knew that Chris and Greg were good friends and that Greg handled most of the outgoing missions for South America as well as being a team leader himself. Knowing Greg, she did not doubt that he had provided Chris with the briefing, had tried to get him back in the game. She took the fact that he had brought this intel home as a sign he had not completely said no.

She grasped one of the folders tightly and marched out of the study, not bothering to close the desk cabinet behind her.

* * *

Chris blinked the sleep from his eyes as they adjusted to the brightness of the room. His wife was no longer asleep beside him though the sheets remained warm to the touch. He paid no attention to her disappearance and sat up to stretch his aching muscles. He had no need for a nap but when he walked into their bedroom to check on her and saw her sleeping so peacefully he took the opportunity to simply lie next to her and appreciate her presence. She did not complain when she was asleep, nor did she blame him for anything or lose her temper, so he had decided to make the most of it. Falling asleep had been an accident.

He always held pride in the fact that he was often able to sense danger before it occured, a sort of sixth sense he had developed after many years of being snuck up on and surprised by various monstrous creatures. It was therefore obvious that the heavy footsteps outside the room and the strange sense of foreboding that came with them was not good.

He jumped off the bed defensively as the door swung open with so much force that it bounced back on itself. A hand shot out to slam it shut again as Jill waved a brown folder in the air. His blood suddenly ran cold, the colour draining from his face as the gravity of the situation sank in.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded, throwing the folder onto the bed next to him. It landed face-up with the photographs scattered across the crumpled bed sheets.

"Let me explain!" he called out, hands raised infront of him.

"What _is_ there to explain?" she demanded. Chris couldn't help but notice that her face had twisted into the same angry snarl it had been fixed in when she was under the influence of the P30. "It all makes perfect sense now! You're always going on about the BSAA and how you had _so_ much fun when you were an agent. I though it was all harmless, I never even _conceived_ the idea that you would actually consider going back."

Chris turned on her in anger, his sudden rousal from sleep exacerbating his already fragile temper.

"What's it to you?" he snarled. "You're my _wife_, not my fucking mother, you can't tell me what to do."

Jill stumbled slightly, taken aback by his angry response. She had argued with him numerous times over the past few weeks, raising her voice on various occasions, but not once had he responded with the same ferocity. It scared her a little; he had never raised his voice to her in such a manner before and she knew how bad his temper could get when aggravated. Still, she ignored all the warning signs and actually enjoyed his reaction.

"I don't want to have to tell you what to do!" she countered. "What I do want is a little respect. We swore that we were done fighting, that we were going to focus on _us_ now. That doesn't mean keeping secrets from each other!"

"Oh yeah, _us_," he scoffed. "It takes two to concentrate on us."

"It also takes time and you're never fucking around anymore!"

"Yeah, well home hasn't exactly been the most inviting environment lately."

Jill's jaw was set, her eyes narrowed in fury at the man before her. He had the audacity to turn this around on her?

"So, you choose work over me?" Her voice broke, unable to maintain the level of anger that she felt inside. Chris twisted his face in disbelief.

"I didn't mean it like that!" he protested. "You don't...you don't know how hard it is. My whole life has been dedicated to the fight! There's no thrill anymore, no excitement. I'm no use to anyone anymore."

"Just your boring old wife in your boring old home, huh?" Jill persisted, much to Chris's annoyance. He jumped to defend himself, grabbing her shoulder as he prepared to reassure her that what she had said was not true. Instead, she flung his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" she screeched. "Did it ever occur to you that I feel the same way? Every single battle that you fought, I was there by your side, fighting with you! Wesker spent two years training me, pushing me to my limits so that I could beat even the best. Now I'm left with a whole new aresenal of moves and no means of putting them to use. At least you have a job! I'm stuck in the house all day, bored out of my fucking mind and cooking meals that _you_ never come home for! I'm not even a housewife because I have no husband to care for, no family to look after. It's more than just the work, Chris."

"A family? How the hell do you expect us to have a family without money? You complain about me working long hours but you yourself just admitted that you don't work. Who is going to bring home money if I clock out early just so you can have an extra hour to bitch at me?"

The palm of her hand hit him hard and fast across his cheek and he instinctively grabbed her wrist tightly.

"I miss the field, too, but I gave that up for a life that promised to be so much better," she growled as she tried to pull her wrist from his grip. "I gave it all up for you! Now you're willing to forsake all that and go back to a life we never really enjoyed in the first place?"

"Don't you _ever_ suggest that I put my wants above you!" Their noses were almost touching, Chris's breath warm against her lips as he tried to drill his point home. "You have no idea what I went through when you were gone, what I went through to get you back! I love you, you fucking idiot, don't you get it?"

He released her wrist and in one swift movement her palm struck him again, the second strike more painful than the first.

"Don't turn that back on me!" she cried.

"Then stop trying to dictate my life!" he retorted, wary of another strike. "You don't know the first thing about-"

"Just stop it!" she screamed. Her hands shot to her hair, her heart pounding in her ears. She no longer feared him, but his words still drove her to breaking point. She felt her chest tighten and braced herself for the shortness of breath that usually followed. Sure enough, her deep breaths became shallow and desperate and her legs buckled from the lack of oxygen.

Fear filled her as a painfully familiar feeling washed over her.

'Not now, not infront of him!'

_Her chest heaved as oxygen poured into her lungs, the air flowing in and out of its own accord. She attempted to take another deep breath and sure enough, her lungs were filled once more. Joyful surprise hit her with tremendous force and it was all she could do to prevent herself from smiling in blissful relief._

_"Rejection," Excella stated, observing a chart with fear in her eyes. "We need to get out of here, incinerate the corpse before transformation."_

_"How disappointing," Wesker muttered. "Never mind, I didn't expect the first trial to be a success given our change in subject._

_Excella turned to face Jill with a disappointed sigh. Jill suddenly froze, not wanting her captors to recognize the control she had regained over her lungs. Fingers twitched inside her robe and she was filled with a sense of hope that she had not felt in weeks. She moved her eyes, careful to disguise the fact that her muscles were slowly returning to her control. She continued to fight, willing her toes to move, her eyebrows to wiggle, any small sense of movement she could manage. It seemed almost too easy and the feeling began to gradually return to her. Having not held herself up for some time, her knees buckled slightly from her weight but neither Excella nor Wesker noticed, their attention focused on the man before them as he began to twitch violently._

_She focused her eyes on Wesker's waist, noticing his master keycard clipped carelessly to a belt loop. She willed her body to move, desperately, before it was too late. Her shoulders twitched as she moved an arm, raised it a few inches before..._

_It was as thought the P30 simply vanished from her system. She could still feel the strength it had given her, slowly fading, but she was suddenly awarded full control of her body. A hand shot out, pulling the keycard from Wesker's waist before he was aware that she had moved. Turning with a speed that amazed even herself she dashed for the door, swiping the keycard and sliding through it before turning to lock it again. Another swipe of the keycard awarded her with a 'password selection' prompt and she smashed her fist against the keypad, resetting the manual override password._

_Wesker's face glared angrily at her through the glass and she could hear his fingers impatiently beating the old password into the lock. She wasted no time in removing her mask and throwing her cloak to the floor before sprinting off; they would only slow her down._

_The lights of the laboratory melded together as she zoomed past them, Excella's screams echoing down the hallway. She knew that their unfortunate victim would have mutated, and also that Wesker was more than capable of destroying the abomination. She only hoped that it would slow them down or finish off Excella. Both, if she was lucky._

_She maneuvered her speeding form into a nearby elevator and pressed the ground level button as her body bounced off the back wall. Left with nothing to do for the short time it took for the elevator to descend, she ripped open her suit and began to tug at the device on her chest._

_"Fuck!" The pain was almost too much to bear, the device proving to be firmly embedded into her skin. The hideous sensation as the tubes moved beneath her skin caused her body to convulse in disgust. Never one to give up, she continued to pull but it was all to no avail._

_The sharp 'ding' as the elevator doors opened snapped her back to reality and she sprinted to the end of the corridor, her legs aching but not giving up. Fortunately the lab was empty and she faced no resistance and she vaulted over a line of desks and used her stolen keycard on yet another door. The sharp smell of fresh air greeted her, clean air drifting in through the ventilation shafts above the next door._

_She smiled in relief, almost able to taste her freedom. They would never be able to find her when she left the lab. She could run and find refuge in one of the nearby villages, she could contact the BSAA and ask to be extracted. Failing that she could just run, she could..._

_The unwelcome whizz of an electronic door sliding open sounded behind her as she collided with her exit. Crying out in desperation, she gripped the card and prepared to swipe at the lock beside her. Unfortunately, the plastic did not make contact._

_Pain exploded in her head as it was smashed violently against the cold metal. A strong hand gripped her ponytail as it visciously slammed her against the door again, the other gripping her empty gun holster._ _She was suddenly pulled flush with a hard, cold body and felt unwelcome lips brush against her ear._

_"I thought I warned you, you ungrateful bitch," Wesker snarled._

_Jill tried to scream but the sudden attack had left her in a daze. She was helpless to defend herself as pain exploded in her side, blow after blow hitting her with a force she had never experienced before. It wasn't long before she was on her knees, coughing up blood onto the grated steel floor. A swift kick caught her underneath and she flew several feet into the door, crying out in agony as her body connected with the cold metal. Another blow ploughed into her face and she felt warm blood trickle down her forehead as she lay helpess on the ground._

_"I think we need to increase the frequency and potency of the dosage," Wesker stated. "And find a way for me to control the device remotely."_

_A strangled scream was drawn from her as he roughly grabbed her hair and used it to pull her to her feet. The sheer giddyness that his blows had inflicted upon her caused her to fall painfully back to the floor and he growled with impatience. Seizing her collar he began to drag her across the floor, her body limp as it trailed behind him. She barely registered the whizz of another door opening._

_"Ah, Ricardo," Excella sang. Jill's heart sank at the knowledge that she was still alive. "I'm afraid you may have to wait a while, we've had a bit of a problem."_

_"I can see that," 'Ricardo' noted as Jill watched Excella's tanned legs pass her. She ignored the pain to chance one last look up and met eyes with a man she had never seen before. He observed her with fear, looking up at Wesker as he passed. His expression seemed to cry 'that guy's nuts!'. As his eyes fell back to her she noticed that they also held pity. She tried to cry out for help, to plead with him but she was too tired to move. Instead, she resigned herself to her humiliating situation with the useless yet somewhat comforting knowledge that someone out there felt for her._

"Jill?" Chris asked warily, his voice still tinged with anger. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, her breathing shallow and erratic.

"Jill!" he shouted, his anger melting into worry. Thinking of nothing else he could do, he reached out to touch her shoulder. He watched as she shook her head violently and then threw out her arms to push him back.

Her closed fist collided with his hard chest, her other hand swinging round to accompany it before she knew what the hell she was doing.

"Back the _fuck_ off!" she screamed, confusion surrounding her as her memory faded.

Chris recoiled as her fists pummelled painfully into his chest. Every move he tried to make to defend himself only provoked her further.

"_You_ have no idea what it's like!" She looked up at her victim, watching Wesker's aging features slowly dissolve, only to be replaced by those of her husband. Guilt hit her hard in the pit of her stomach as she noticed his reluctance to fight back. He reached for her wrists but she was moving too fast.

_'Stop it!' she screamed inwardly, fighting harder than she had fought previously. She could not even close her eyes to hide the scene. His arms moved weakly, his guns resting harmlessly in their holsters. Every move he made was a failed attempt to block her attacks and she suddenly felt irritation rise within her._

_'Come on!' her mind commanded. 'You could take me on if you tried, fight back, defend yourself!'_

_Her silent cries did not sway him, and she found her body moving too fast for her to concentrate on freeing even one part of it. The dosage of P30 that coursed through her system proved too strong for her to resist and she instantly regretted attempting to escape. Had she not broken her control several times before she would have still been on a lower dosage and saving her partner would have been so much easier._

_'Chris, please!'_

A fresh surge of anger fuelled her and she continued her assault.

"If you want to fight so bad, then come on!" she screamed. "Fight _me_!"

"Jill," Chris panted, deciding against talking when he realised how much it weakened him. Every attempt he made to seize her wrists proved futile and only served to make them land on his own wrists, sending jarring pains up his arms.

It was evident by her anguished expression that she was fuelled by a rage even she did not fully understand. He had always assumed that her behaviour as of late had simply been due to anger management problems, but he could see now that she was unstable in a completely different way. The pain in his chest and arms seemed inconsequential in comparison to the realisation that suddenly hit him.

Knowing that defence was futile, he pulled Jill towards him, his arms wrapped tightly around her in as loving an embrace as he could manage given the situation. In this position it proved impossible for her to continue pounding into him and she was left with little to do but to try and shake him off.

"Don't," she sobbed, her restricted strikes becoming weaker and weaker.

"Ssh," he whispered in an attempt to comfort her. "Calm down, calm down."

He barely caught her as her attack slowly ceased and her knees buckled. Weakened considerably by her blows, he lowered her down to the floor to provide both of them with a little comfort. It was hard for him not to notice the arms that moved upwards and wrapped around his neck. He adjusted his grip accordingly and held her gently as her sobs continued.

"Damn it, Jill, you better start talking," he demanded. "Because I've never been this scared in my life. Talk to me, tell me you're okay."

She said nothing as she cried into his neck and her silence fuelled his worry.

"Baby, you're shaking," he noted, fully aware that he was talking to himself. "Come on, stand up."

He gently pulled her to her feet as he rose and her arms slid back down to his chest.

"I'm okay," she lied. "And I'm sorry. I'm...so sorry, I don't know what came over me. Just...please don't go anywhere. I need you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "I keep telling Greg 'no'. But it was bang out of order for me to lie to you, and for that I'm sorry."

His words seemed to sooth her frazzled nerves and she took a step back, swiping at her eyes with a closed fist.

"It's three o'clock," she told him. "We should get going."

"Jill, we're not going anywhere until you talk to me!" Chris protested.

"There's nothing to talk about," she insisted. "I've just got a bad case of PMS and cabin fever."

She flashed him a convincing smile as she smoothed down her outfit.

"Come on, the beer's not gonna buy itself," she told him.

Chris watched her leave the room, completely dumfounded. How could she act like nothing had happened? How could she be attacking him one minute and smiling at him the next? He had never known her behaviour to be as unpredictable as it was lately. The fact that she had found the mission briefings meant nothing to him anymore...but her reaction to it terrified him.

* * *

Kathy Burton greeted the couple at the door, hugging them both tightly.

"Chris, Jill," she acknowledged. "It's been far too long, come in, come in."

They gratefully stepped over the threshold and into the warm and welcoming Burton household.

"Hey, you made it!" Barry greeted, his booming voice almost comical when accompanied by his outstretched arms. Jill sank into his friendly embrace, telling him how much she had missed them.

"Missed us?" he echoed as he took the heavy crate of beer from Chris. "It's barely been a month."

"It seems longer than that." Jill sighed as she remembered a time when she would greet him every day and listen patiently while he raved about a new firearm he had his eye on. He never traded in his Colt, nor did he ever show any desire to but he was always dreaming about the next piece of metal that would rest between his fingers.

"Everyone else is in the living room. Come on through."

Chris watched Jill follow Barry obediently with not a single glance back and him and his heart sank. So much for progress...

"You okay, hun?" Kathy asked, concern lacing her words. Chris snapped his head around, eyes fixed on the older woman. He had always liked Kathy; she was a woman with a kind heart and a stern voice. She never took shit from anyone but always treated them with the respect they sometimes didn't deserve. He reminded her a lot of Jill and it was easy for him to see how Barry had fallen for her.

"I'm fine," he said with a twisted face, his words convincing neither himself nor his friend's wife. "We just...had an argument before we left."

"A pretty serious one, I can see," she added as she lightly touched where Jill's hand had left it's mark less than an hour ago. "Your skin's starting to bruise."

"It was my fault," he insisted, quick to defend his beloved. "I've been, well..._misunderstanding_ a lot of things lately. I acted out of line and got what I deserved."

A muffled laugh overlapped his words and Kathy had to raise a hand to her mouth politely to prevent herself from choking.

"Chris Redfield," she laughed. "I never thought I'd hear those words coming from you."

He raised an eyebrow, daring her to continue laughing at him.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "Look, I've been married long enough to know that when someone's attitude changes as much as yours has right now, something is wrong. I also know that your marriage is none of my damn business. So if you want to talk about it, speak up. Otherwise I'll drop it."

Chris contemplated taking her up on her offer for a brief moment but ultimately decided against it. It would only anger Jill if she found out that he had been discussing their problems with a third party.

"I'm good," he assured her. "We're just going through a rough patch but it's nothing we can't handle."

Never before had he wanted to believe in his own words so much.

* * *

"So, how's the little one?"

Claire smiled in pure elation as she moved her hand across her slightly distended stomach.

"Behaving," she replied. "The morning sickness is annoying but it's all gonna be worth it. I'm actually eighteen weeks to the day today."

"And don't I know it?" Leon muttered, taking a swig from his half-empty beer bottle. He was rewarded with a swift elbow to the stomach and cried out in protest.

"See, this is all I've been getting lately!" he complained, signalling to the smirk that was currently playing across his fiancée's lips. "Her hormones aren't even in full swing yet! Boy am I looking forward to being on the receving end of the Redfield temper when she's got a mass of hormones fuelling her."

Claire continued to smirk as she slipped her arm in his and rested her head on his shoulder in a loving gesture that Jill knew was simply a show to say "_He_ is being the unfair one".

It brought a genuine smile to Jill's face but also a sudden brooding feeling. Feeling suddenly lightheaded, she blinked several times and shook her head to rid herself of the feeling. She recognised that she was in no fit state to try for a child at that time, and that the distance that had grown between her and Chris made conception almost impossible.

"Whatever you do, don't go shopping with her," Rebecca added as she joined the conversation. "I merely pointed out that perhaps she didn't want to buy a pair of jeans that didn't have an expanding waistline and she just walked off and left me in the middle of the store, alone."

"But you do have a point," Jill agreed. "Seriously, Claire, you're just gonna start expanding from here."

Claire glared at her sister in law, daring her to continue. Jill simply laughed at her, having elicited the exact reaction she was looking for. Rebecca's laugh did nothing to reassure her so she instead looked to Leon for a defensive argument.

"I'm staying out of this one," he defended. "For what it's worth, you're still beautiful, honey."

"Okay, that's enough," Rebecca spluttered as she attemped to compose herself. "Please, we're about to eat. Oh, speaking of eating, are you getting lots of calcium? How about exercise?"

"Oh no, don't get all medical on me, Miss Chambers," Claire protested in slight amusement. "I'm getting enough from my doctor at the moment."

They all laughed, knowing how Rebecca got. Since the fall of Umbrella she had worked for various medical institutions. Her first few years of freedom were spent mainly in research positions before she tried her hand at being a field medic then finally settled into a residency program at a local hospital. At twenty-nine years of age she was currently the assistant head of the pathology department, her work unrivalled even by senior physicians due to the invaluable experience she had gained working for underground laboratories and analysing samples they had obtained from Umbrella's many illegal laboratories. Even after all these years, the desire to aid those in need burned through her veins with a persistant fury and her intelligence meant that she was at the top of her chosen field. Unfortunately for her friends, this meant that she would often enlighten them with off-putting explanations of their illnesses.

"Hey Jill, you okay?" Leon asked, witnessing his friend place an impatient hand against her stomach.

"Yeah, it's just cramp," she groaned. "I swear, my PMS is dragging itself out this month."

"Now _that_ is too much information," he complained, suddenly wishing that he hadn't bothered speaking up. The girls laughed at him, always delighted at how easy it was to make a man squeamish.

"Food!" Barry's voice bellowed in from the back garden, a deliciously inviting aroma drifting in through the open back door.

"Thank God," Jill cheered. "I'm _starving_."

The sizzling of flame on meat fuelled the hunger that she felt and she dove for a place at the front of the line, scooping a freshly-cooked chicken burger onto a plate before sandwiching it in a bun. Jill never did eat much meat, but she knew how good Barry's barbecues were. So good, in fact, that he usually held one every month in Raccoon by popular demand. If the boys had had their way, he would have been hosting a barbeque every night. They always proved to be the highlight of the S.T.A.R.S. team's month and as soon as the beer started to flow, so did the idle chatter. She even went as far as to credit his popular cook-outs as being the main reason why she had bonded with the guys; the homely setting made her feel a hell of a lot more comfortable than their regular bar had and her relaxed mood had allowed her to open up more.

She bit greedily into the burger, savouring the sweet taste of the scalding hot meat.

"Steady on," Chris laughed as he moved beside her and picked up a sliced bun. "You don't want to choke yourself."

Strangely enough, his words caused an impromptu giggle to rise in her throat and she found herself fighting hard to keep the contents of her mouth in their rightful place.

"Just pass me some water," she spluttered, sesame seeds flying back onto her paper plate.

"Hey," Rebecca whispered, catching Jill offguard. It was enough to cause her to miss the water bottle that Chris sent flying her way.

"Haven't you learned about not sneaking up on people?" She laughed as she bent down to pick her drink up.

"Sorry," Rebecca muttered. "I _did_ whisper."

Jill rolled her eyes amicably and moved to take a seat at the garden table, smiling in greeting at Carlos as he passed by.

"So, how's things between you and Chris?" Rebecca asked nonchalantly as she sat facing Jill, hotdog in hand. Jill choked on her burger once again and gulped down a large mouthful of water as soon as she could catch her breath.

"What do you mean?" she asked, faking a smile. "Things are fine between us."

Rebecca hummed lightly, placing her hotdog back on the plate as she began to pick apart her salad with a plastic fork.

"That's good," she murmured. "Because Claire told me that you were feeling a bit, well...left out."

A piercing glare was sent in the direction of the third woman, though she remained unaware of Jill's sudden anger as she laughed something with her brother.

"She told you?" Jill's jaw was set and Rebecca was made aware that the conversation was obviously meant to have been private.

"Don't be angry at her," Rebecca sighed. "She was worried about you, asked if I had any thoughts on the matter."

"And do you?" Her tone was less than friendly and Rebecca became reluctant to continue the conversation. Still, knowing Jill, she wouldn't be allowed to simply drop the subject.

"Well..." she began nervously. "I agreed with her, that you were both simply adjusting to a new life, but... Well, you've barely said a word to each other since you arrived. At the last barbecue you were all over each other, it was actually quite disgusting."

"We had an argument before we left," she explained, hoping to use their earlier altercation as an excuse. "We're still cooling down."

Rebecca set down her plastic fork and gazed sympathetically at her friend.

"Jill, I've known you long enough to be able to tell when you're lying," she told her. "You've always been a good friend to me. When I first joined S.T.A.R.S., I was terrified. I was joining a group of predominantly males who had known each other for years. I was this gawky teenager who had graduated from college before her friends had graduated from high school! I was out of touch with the whole military attitude of the team, but you saw past all that and befriended me right away. I've never been presented with an opportunity to return the favour, but I've always been here for you. That hasn't changed, so if you need to confide in someone, know that I'll listen and I'll take whatever you tell me to my grave if I have to."

Her kindness frustrated Jill as much as it touched her. Lately she had received so many offers of a shoulder to cry on that she began to worry about the impression she was giving others. Did they think she was some unstable nut job? A grown woman who didn't know how to handle her own emotions?

"If you want to be a friend, just drop it," she demanded. The younger woman was a little taken aback by her tone and sat up straight in a defensive manner.

"Whoa, Jill, I'm just saying-"

"Well don't, okay? Because I find it insulting."

Rebecca leaned back in her plastic chair, her friend's words shocking her to the core. The Jill she knew never snapped at her friends, she never concealed her feelings with anger. Admittedly, they had not spent much time together since her return but the time they had shared together had been an echo of their life in Raccoon; no anger, no hostility. Her initial shock ebbed away and was replaced with professional curiosity. Rebecca had been one of the few outside bodies hired by the BSAA to give a secondary opinion on Jill's blood samples after her rescue. The results had proved to be fascinating and it was she herself who had contributed majorly to the development of a vaccine. As a result of her involvement, she was allowed access to the medical files pertaining to Jill that BSAA agents had pulled from the main computer in the Kijuju facility. The data had not provided her with a full picture of her imprisonment but Jill herself had filled in most of the blanks and the picture Rebecca had formed as a result was not pretty.

"I'm going to get another drink," Jill announced, ignoring the almost-full bottle of water beside her and pushing her chair backwards. She could feel Rebecca's eyes boring into her back and tried her best to ignore the unpleasant sensation it inflicted upon her.

'Why is everyone trying to interfere?'

The appetite-whetting smells that continued to drift over from the barbecue reignited her hunger as she reached carefully over the buns to grab an empty glass with one hand and a bottle of wine with the other. The glass was cool against the palm of her hand, condesation dripping slowly over the curves of the bottle. It was _Pino grigio_, her favourite.

The almost-clear liquid flowed into the glass and she made sure to be careful that she did not pour too much. Wine always went to her head and she didn't want to be stumbling around the garden after one glass.

"Whoa, hey!" someone exclaimed behind her, their voice low and urgent. Seconds later, the glass was plucked from her grasp and placed on the table beside her.

"Stick to soft drinks, will you?" Chris asked, keeping his voice as little more than a whisper. Jill glanced down at her empty hand, her fingers still curled around an imaginary beverage. She turned to Chris, astonished.

"What are you doing?" she asked, making no attempt to keep her own voice low. Her voice attracted the attention of Carlos, who paused mid-bite to observe them curiously.

"I don't think wine is the best idea, do you?" he muttered in an attempt to ignore their hispanic friend.

Choosing to ignore his insane suggestion, she picked up the glass and raised it to her lips. Once again, his hand moved swiftly to disarm her and she turned on him in annoyance.

"Give me the glass," she demanded. A single hand rested firmly on her hip; a sure sign that she was annoyed and attempting to convey that she wasn't in the mood to mess around.

He glanced nervously around, noticing that her raised voice had caught the attention of everyone in sight.

"Jill, I don't think you should be drinking," he told her as quietly as he could out of courtesy.

"Oh my God, are you pregnant, too?" Claire exclaimed in giddy elation. Jill tapped her foot impatiently and made a failed attempt to swipe the glass from her husband.

"No, I'm not fucking pregnant," she fumed. "Chris is just being an ass. Now give me my damn drink!"

Chris silently denied her demand and caught her wrist as she made another attempt to swipe her drink from him. Her boots slid against the rough paving as he pulled her towards him with minimal effort.

"I told you before," he whispered, his breath tickling her cheek uncomfortably. "I don't know what has gotten into you lately, but it's scaring the hell out of me. I don't want you drinking and making a scene."

Shocked gasps erupted around them as she pushed him back. The glass slipped out of his hand, shattering in an explosion of light and liquid as it hit the paving stones at their feet.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me," she breathed through grated teeth. "In front of our _friends_."

Chris swallowed his guilt as he observed the appalled expressions that were evident on each of their faces as they glanced uneasily between them both. He had never meant to humiliate her, his intentions being purely and simply to save her from doing just that. It occured to him that alcohol would have done little to exacerbate her already raging temper. She had obviously not fully recovered from their earlier fight and he knew he was foolish to have thought it to be over.

"Jill, please," he begged in an attempt to save her from any further embarassment. "Not here, not now."

"I think it's too late for that," she pointed out. Another wave of fatigue swept through her and she found herself unable and unwilling to fight with him. Secretly, she had been ashamed of the fact that their marriage was failing and now that it seemed to be obvious to the only friends whose opinions meant squat to her she was left feeling humiliated and weak. It was an unwelcome change from the cavernous emptiness that had filled her mere moments before.

"I-I think he has a point," Rebecca interjected nervously. "Just-"

"Just stay out of this, Rebecca," Jill snarled. Her supposed friends's sudden interruption stoked the fire that she had started earlier with her unwelcome offer of help. "Keep your nose clean for once."

Dejected, Rebecca moved closer to Carlos, who placed a sympathetic arm around her.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I don't want another fucking explanation!" Jill screamed, rounding on the trembling girl. "You always have an explanation for everything! Just keep your mouth shut, this doesn't concern you."

Chris bolted forward to grab Jill's shoulders and pull her back. It was no easy feat, with Jill's solid resolve and anger fuelling her in unprecedented ways.

"Don't yell at her!" he barked. "She has nothing to do with this!"

"Then why bring it up in front of everyone!" she shouted in return, failing to realise that she was the one making the scene. "Our problems are none of their business!"

Chris stumbled back as though from an invisible blow. Seeing the danger of the situation, Barry rushed to douse the barbecue. The others knew well enough to stay back and not get involved. Yet as the argument escalated they couldn't help feeling awkward, embarassed and a little afraid.

"Problems?" Chris muttered, never having seen their situation as problematic. Sure, they were having troubles but they always pulled through and they never escalated into anything other than a minor disturbance. But a problem?

"Oh, don't give me that," she sighed. "You spend all day at the office and still put in for overtime. You don't even try to initiate sex anymore, it's like you've just given up! You rarely talk to me about anything other than stupid, trivial things. For God's sake, you're considering fucking off for a few weeks on some assignment when we swore to each other that we were done with all that! Does...does our marriage mean that little to you? That you prefer to spend time in a desk job you obviously don't enjoy rather than at home with me?"

"Okay, I think it's time to stop this," Barry announced, stepping between the warring couple. He knew well how embarassing it was to have ones dirty laundry washed in public and had seen that venting their anger in public would create more problems than it solved.

"You're unstable, Jill," Chris lamented, fighting back tears. He was ashamed enough at the details Jill had revealed without furthering his embarassment by bawling infront of his friends. The walls he had held up for years had been torn down violently and he felt completely exposed. "Can't you see that?"

To his amazement and the amazement of those around him, Jill's expression faltered and unlike Chris, she was unable to fight back her own tears. No sooner had they started, she spun around and dashed inside the house, leaving Chris in the wake of her breakdown. Sensing that it was the best thing to do, he ran after her.

"Jill!" he called, dashing through to the kitchen. Her heart thudded against his ribcage with such ferocity he was amazed it did not leap from hs chest. More than that, it felt cold, empty. Her love had not touched it in so long that he almost forgot how it felt, but it was not this that bothered him. Once again he had realised his mistake several minutes too late.

"Chris!" Barry's voice resounded down the hall behind him but he paid it no heed. Right now the only thing on his mind was his fractured wife.

He found her bracing herself against the kitchen counter, arms shaking from built-up pressure.

"What the hell is going on?" Barry demanded, entering the kitchen before Chris had the chance to speak. "What was that out there?"

"I'm sorry," Jill apologised as she stood up straight and began to smooth her hair down. "You didn't need to see that."

"Damn right we didn't. What the hell were you thinking, making a scene like that? And shouting at Rebecca? That was completely uncalled for!"

"Don't you think I know that?" She seethed, her body still shaking from the force of her frustration. "I couldn't help it, it just _came out_!"

Barry looked dubiously between them, noticing their posture and the way Jill kept a wary distance from Chris while he seemed to be desperate to hold her. The pain in Chris's eyes was evident even to him, Jill's covered carefully with the hand that rubbed at her forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked, addressing them as a couple. "That wasn't pretty out there."

"We're just going through a rough patch," Chris told his good friend, echoing his own thoughts from earlier.

The older man reached a hand up to rub his chin, the bristles that coated his jaw rustling beneath his touch.

"That sounds like a bit of an understatement," he thought aloud. "Are things really this bad? So bad that it's spilling out into what was supposed to be a friendly get-together?"

They looked at each other sheepishly, their situation souding so much graver when phrased that way.

"I hate to be the one to bring this up, but have you considered marriage counselling?"

"What?" Jill exclaimed wearily.

"Counselling isn't just for old couples," he explained. "Lots of couples find the marriage transition rough and counselling _does_ help. It provides a mediator who can assess the situation independently and tell you what needs to be done."

"We don't _need_ counselling!" Jill objected vehemently. The silence that hung between them was mind-numbing.

Chris hung his head in defeat, the options before them running out. He did not want to think about where their current path would lead them. Divorce? Insanity? Regardless of the result, it did not look good. And what would he do on the journey? Could he stand by and do nothing as she faded to nothing before him? No. It pained him enough to see the once vibrant and strong Jill Valentine reclusive and unstable. He couldn't watch her destroy herself, he just couldn't.

"Yes we do," Chris whispered, the proverbial lightbulb flickering to life above his head.

Jill turned to him in surprise, so sure that he would have had her back on this one. The Chris she knew would rather spend an afternoon working with Brian Irons than sit through an hour of counselling. Despite her objection, she had no fight left in her nor did she have the heart to subject him to further abuse.

"Alright," she whispered meekly in reluctant agreement. "Whatever."

She reached silently for the coat she had brought with her, unhooking it without saying a word.

"I want to leave," she told them. "I'll be- I'll be waiting in the car."

Chris watched with a heavy heart as she walked out on them. A few long moments of silence passed before he felt Barry's hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, Chris," he offered. "I didn't know things were this bad."

Chris turned to face him, his eyes bloodshot from the tears he dared not shed. His head felt lighter, the solution his friend had presented him with easing his conscience somewhat.

"I still don't think we need counselling," he admitted. "But she needs help. Maybe this will help her open up. If not then the counsellor may be able to explain what she is going through and help her understand. I'm not doing this for us, I'm doing this for her."

He raised a hand to his nose stubbornly as the tingling in his sinuses became more persistant.

"At this point, I don't care about our marriage," he explained. "I care about _her_. If I thought that packing my bags and leaving would help her, I'd do it. Sure, it would hurt like hell but at least she would be happy. She's just so...empty. Like there's nothing there anymore. It's killing me to watch her fall apart, knowing there's not a damn thing I can do to help because she won't let me in."

Barry's grip on his shoulder became tighter as he suddenly realised the extent of what his friend was going through.

"Love never was the problem with you two," he laughed reassuringly. Their eyes met in a knowing glance, one that was broken only when the kitchen door swung open and Rebecca slipped inside.

"Don't be too hard on her," she urged desperately, moving close enough to Chris for him to understand how deadly serious she was. Her eyes were wide, the corners of her mouth twitching downward. "I was kind of listening in. You're doing the right thing."

"Yeah," Chris sighed as he flashed her a smile. "I just wish she would tell me what's bothering her so I knew how to deal with it."

Her eyes darted nervously to his and then back to the floor.

"I think I know what's wrong with her," she told him. "I was hoping that I was jumping to conclusions, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. You're not going to want to hear this, but I think she is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder."

Chris's worried expression faded into one of horror.

"All the symptoms are there," Rebecca continued. "Her anger, her distance, even the problems in your marriage. Just before she suggested that your sex life had been suffering, that you were having difficulty simply finding things to talk about. Add her anger and her defensive body language and you've got the classic symptoms. I-I don't know the full details of what she went through, but I'm willing to bet that it was horrifying. If she is having flashback they must be crippling. If I'm right then I'm amazed that she has lasted so long without help."

"But post-traumatic stress disorder is just that..._post_-traumatic," Chris countered, though it was obvious to all three of them that he was simply clutching at straws. "It's been over a year since she was rescued.

"It's still post-traumatic," she told him, her voice unnecessarily apologetic. "It can sometimes take days, weeks, even months for symptoms to show. Usually it develops within six months, but I suppose it is possible for it to show after a year. Immediately after her rescue she was preoccupied with rebuilding her life and planning your wedding. It was only after your honeymoon that she finally settled down and relaxed. It would have been the perfect opportunity for her unconscious thoughts to make themselves known."

"Damn," he swore. "I never thought of it that way."

She patted him on the back reassuringly before he pulled his own coat from where Kathy had hooked it.

"I'm sorry for ruining your barbecue," he apologised. "It's probably best if we get going now. Thank you, both of you."

"Just...take care of her," Rebecca insisted, obviously not taking Jill's berating to heart. "And know that we're all here."

Chris laughed lightly.

"I guess the tables really have turned, huh? She always took care of me."

He did not think to say farewell to those that remained in the garden, knowing that Jill was waiting for him. Counselling wouldn't be easy, he knew that, but he did not expect her recovery to be a walk in the park. He expected many more tears, more arguing and countless sleepless nights, but he had accepted that and was more than willing to deal with it.

He only hoped that he wasn't too late.

**AN - Please review :).**


	6. Blue In The Face

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **Another long chapter :). I'm actually amazing myself with how fast I'm getting these done, lol. It used to take me weeks to write a chapter a third the size of these. Anyway, 'Blue in the Face' belongs to Alkaline Trio (who really do have a way with words) and the song that Jill thinks of is 'Don't Say A Word' by Sonata Arctica. Claire's speech at the graveside is also influenced a little by Supernatural, so I also give credit to the amazing Eric Kripke and his show. If you're wondering how, watch the episode 'Criss Angel Is A Douchebag'. Dean makes a very good point about the life they live and the price they pay for protecting people and fighting for the same 'world without fear' that the RE characters fought for. I also don't own Bones.  
I could actually do with a little help concerning the rating. Do you think a T is suitable or has it got to the point where I should change it to an M?

I don't want to write a huge author's note, so I'm going to use the 'review reply' button for once since I want to reply to quite a few :).

But a huge, huge thank you to **MarnaLouw89, .Valentine, Devil Rebel, Sparkle Valentine, Squeakin, C. Redfield 86, Ruby Halo, Tiger Snaps, xmenrocks, Stardust4, Kenshin13, tek and Ryoko Metallium.** I'm overwhelmed by the response I'm getting at the moment, thank you!

_**Chapter Five - **Blue In The Face_

_"It's about time that I came clean with you, no longer fine. I'm no longer running smooth."_

The sleek silver Sedan glided down the street, windows open as the sun beat down on its metallic surface. Claire shivered a little as cool air rushed into the car. The weather was unusually warm for that time of year and coupled with the hot flushes she had been experiencing, it felt like summer to her.

"Damn this neighbourhood," she fumed as she missed her turning and had to double back down another street. It was just like her brother to make life more complicated and inconvenience her. After all, he could have chosen a house closer to hers or at least easier to get to if you don't know where you're going. Instead, he had the audacity to buy a house almost an hour away in an area where every damn street looked the same.

Finally spying a familiar street sign, she flicked her indicator and turned into the Redfields' street. Their black SUV was evident a mile off and Claire parked her smaller car behind it, deliberately blocking its exit from the driveway. It was his own damn fault for not putting it in the garage and keeping the driveway clear.

Her annoyance followed her along the path and up the stone steps that led to the house and she rapped on the door perhaps a little _too_ harsly.

Chris greeted her with the customary 'oh God, not you' eye roll, which she chose to ignore.

"You not gonna let me in?" she asked as he remained stationary in the doorway.

"Do I have to?" he groaned in fake reluctance though he moved aside to let her pass.

"Is Jill home? I'm here to return the DVDs she loaned me."

"Uh, no, she went shopping with one of the neighbours," he explained, ruffling his already messy hair with one hand. "I figured getting out of the house would help her clear her head. But what's this? Bones?"

"I'll have you know, Bones is a genius piece of television," Claire defended as she used the heavy box to knock some sense into her brother.

"I know that; it's _my_ damn DVD!" he fumed in mock anger. "I've been looking for it for the past week!"

"Well I'm here to exchange it for season two, so I hope you know where that one is."

Chris stretched out a hand and ruffled her hair, much to her annoyance. She pretended to be offended but they both knew that she loved it when he played the part of the annoying older brother. In fact, she wouldn't have it any other way.

She followed him through to the living room and watched him switch the DVDs, craning her neck to see what else he owned. Seeing nothing of interest, she moved away and decided to plop herself down onto the sofa and generally make herself at home.

"How is she?" she asked, keeping her interrogation simple. Chris pulled a thin box set from the shelf he had been browsing through and turned to face her.

"Quiet," he answered. "Though I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. We've got our first appointment with the counsellor later today, so it could be down to that. At least, I'm hoping it is."

"You nervous?"

She noticed him turn the box over in his hands several times, seemingly deep in thought.

"A little," he admitted with honesty. "But it needs to be done."

Claire swallowed as she closed her eyes, trying to imagine how she would feel if she was in his situation. Leon had told her numerous times that her emotions often clouded her better judgement when dealing with her brother; a fact reinforced by the dangerous lengths she had went to to find him after he cut off all contact with her following the mansion incident. It was a scenario Leon used frequently to point out that she often failed to put herself in Chris's position and always thought that she knew what was best for him. Chris was exactly the same in matters pertaining to Claire. For all her thinking, she only continued to draw blank after blank until she was sick of trying.

"I really admire you for doing this, you know?" she told him upon deciding that she didn't _need_ to understand him this time.

"Thanks," he replied awkwardy.

"I still think you're an ass for provoking her at the barbecue though," she was quick to add. "As good as your intentions were."

He grunted; it was his way of agreeing without having to admit that he was wrong. The events at the barbecue had become somewhat of a taboo subject. Those who had not been present in the kitchen were curious but recognised that it was a situation that had nothing to do with them and was best left well alone. Well, all of them save for Claire.

She remembered all too clearly what he had been like after Jill's disappearance and how it had frightened her into adopting a certain possessive attitude over her brother. In the end, Barry had to interfere and tell her that he needed time alone. She never had the heart to tell them how much she was suffering at the time. It was hard for all of them, but Chris's pain seemed to bring out the worst in her and made her own seem more real. He had always been so strong to her, he had been the guy who would occasionally start a fight but always finish it, who would break up with a girlfriend and seemingly not be too bothered about the loss, who would allow her to vent all of her rage onto him without even flinching. It had shattered her world and defied everything she had known when he had lain lifeless in his apartment for days on end, smoking himself half to death with little regard for the world around him and those in it. She had never realised just how much Jill meant to him until then; she was more than his partner, more that his lover...she was his whole world, the only sane thing to him in an insane world. Of course, the old Chris started to return with time, but something seemed to be missing. He looked like Chris Redfield but inside he was hollow.

As silence descended upon them, she found her mind drifting back to early December, 2006 and that one empty grave.

_She observed him from a distance at first, wary of how fragile his mind had been lately. He had shown no signs of becoming angry, nor did she__ think he had it in him to lose his temper with anyone. After several moments of silence she decided to join him, making her presence known to allow him the opportunity to speak first._

_"It was the least I could do," he murmured sorrowfully. "It just...doesn't feel like enough, you know?"_

_Words failed her; what the hell _could _she say? No words could bring her back, no sentiment could heal his shattered heart. The grave before them offered no solace, though it held Chris's gaze in a way that only the woman it represented ever had._

_"It makes it seem so final," Claire thought aloud. "Her body may not be at rest, but I'm sure her soul is. She doesn't have to fight anymore, she's finally free. Isn't that the future you both wanted for yourselves?"_

_The words were familiar to her; she had repeated them over and over in her mind in an attempt to convince herself to move on._

_"Not like this," Chris bemoaned, his voice breaking dreadfully. "She wasn't supposed to die for me. That's not the way it was supposed to go."_

_Claire bit back an angry response, knowing that it wouldn't help either of them._

_"Come on," she pressed. "We're gonna miss the wake."_

_"I'm not going."_

_Her anger returned with a vengeance, fuelled by her concern for her heartbroken brother. He remained as stubbornly grief-stricken as he had for the three months since her fall and her sympathy for him was beginning to pale in comparison to her frustration._

_"Chris-"_

_"Damnit, Claire, can't you see that I just want to be alone?" His insistance infuriated her. She did not want to look at him as an ungrateful bastard, knowing that this was far from the truth, but she was sick and oh so tired of watching him beat himself up and not recognise her sacrifice for what it was; an act of bravery that removed their most dangerous opponent from the scene and no doubt saved many lives._

_"Yes, I see that!" she smoldered through gritted teeth and a curled upper lip. "But damn it, she was _our_ friend, too. You're not the only one who is hurting here! Do you honestly think that she would have wanted you to stand in the cold for hours, staring down at an empty grave while you disregard the fact that she eliminated the man that has caused you so much pain whilst saving the life of the man she loved? You knew Jill well enough to know that it is a death she would have wanted. We all deserve the right to choose how we die, but not many of us are lucky enough to be allowed to exercise that right. Life is stolen from us...she gave hers willingly for a greater cause; the cause you have been fighting for all these years."_

_Icy tears marked her skin as her words hit her. She had never been much of a believer in the concept of a 'beautiful death'; death was death and she had seen enough of it to know that it wasn't beautiful. She had witnessed many people perish in various horriffic ways, fighting until their blood ran cold, screwing each other over 'til the last moment for their own freedom. Humans had an uncanny knack for grasping onto life in the most ferocious of ways, willing to trade anything or anyone for just one more breath. Yet Jill had willingly traded hers for the life of her partner and for those that Wesker would no doubt have taken had he escaped. She must have known that she was leaping to her death. It went against all that defined her as human, it broke the mould in a most profound way. Though she missed her friend in a way she knew would haunt her for years to come, her death had restored the faith she had lost in her fellow man. She saw it as 'classic Jill'; selfless to the end. _

_Sadly enough, the lives of the selfless were filled only with sorrow._

_"I was going to propose to her," Chris whispered. His words hit his sister like a hammer to the heart and all of her anger melted away. "After the mission, after- I was going to ask her to marry me. We were going to have kids, a family; the way it was supposed to be."_

_Stepping forward, Claire wrapped her slender arms around his middle, and after a few long seconds he returned the gesture. His embrace became painfully tight but she did not complain. She knew that he needed this._

_"That's not how it's supposed to go," she contradicted. She knew that it was a point that didn't need to be driven home but her voice seemed to be fuelled by her tears. "Not for us. People like us, we...we don't get happy endings. We either die violently or we die alone. It's the price we pay for freedom."_

_Chris's grip loosened but his arms remained around her._

_"Is it worth it?"_

_Claire paused for a moment, trying to think of a passable answer. In the end, she remained silent. Because she honestly didn't know._

_...and neither did he._

"What's got you so deep in thought?" Chris asked, only half-serious. Claire jerked her head up, barely aware that she had drifted off for a moment.

"Oh, uh...nothing much," she stuttered. "Just you. And don't give me that disgusted look. I was just remembering what you were like after she disappeared."

"Oh." His face sank and he seemed torn somewhere between embarassment and nostalgia.

"You were a wreck," she reminded him, much to his dismay. "I honestly thought that you were going to self-destruct. In a way I suppose you were a little like how Jill is now. My point is that I was never there for you in the way I should have been. I should have made you get help, should have...well, I should have been there more."

Chris raised an arm and rested it along the back of the sofa where they both sat, his hand stroking her hair gently.

"You did the best you could," he reassured her. "We were all hurting."

"I know, but... Well, I really do admire you for what you're doing for her. This can't be easy on you yet you're willing to stand by her and even sit through counselling sessions. I'm proud of you, bro."

The palm of his hand impacted softly on the back of her head. He thought it best to joke his way out of the situation rather than end up having a deep, heartfelt conversation with his sister. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her help or that he didn't trust her in any way; he just didn't do deep with his sister. It felt awkward, like discussing a date with his parents.

"Fine, I get it," she laughed. "You don't like making it obvious that you're a wet biscuit."

"It's blanket...wet _blanket_," he corrected as laughter of his own spilled out.

"I don't have to deal with this. I have a date with Agent Booth," she spoke with eloquence. Chris's laughter followed her to the front door, as did he.

They embraced in a friendly brother-sister bear hug and he was careful not to hold her too tight after remembering her condition. She looked up at him in respect, silently conveying what she had told him just minutes before.

"What are you doing on Saturday?" she asked impulsively.

"I don't know," he replied. "Nothing, probably, why?"

"You...want to catch a movie or something? It's been a while since we did something with just the two of us."

He beamed at the suggestion, agreeing with her but not speaking his mind.

"I'd love that," he told her. "But I'm not making any promises."

She bowed her head knowingly and smiled to assure him that she understood. Jill came first, and that was how it should be.

"Good luck with your appointment," she winked.

* * *

It was early afternoon when he was unexpectedly roused from his nap. It was an occurance that would have greatly annoyed him had it not been for the sensual way in which he had been awoken. Something soft and gentle pressed against the corner of his mouth, the sweet scent of a familiar perfume enveloping him as a warm hand rested on the side of his neck. Given the circumstances, he should have been somewhat surprised, but the simple _sensation_ of those lips against his skin and the sheer magnitude of the effect they had on him made all coherent thought impossible. All that he responded with was a groan that perhaps showed a little too much enjoyment.

"Afternoon," Jill sang as her head hovered a comfortable distance away from his. His immediate thoughts were 'I have _got_ to be dreaming', but the hand that remained on his neck was certainly real.

"Hey," he replied tiredly, still trying to work out what had happened. In the stupour induced by such a rousal, he thought for a moment that the past month had been some horrific nightmare. But while the face he gazed up into displayed a familiar beauty, the pale blue eyes that watched him displayed so much hidden pain that it was impossible to find the warmth and intelligence that he knew lay beyond.

"How has your day been?"

He paused for a moment as he considered the strange question.

"Uneventful," he yawned. "How about you? You buy anything nice?"

He honestly didn't care about her purchases, but asked out of courtesy. He always hated being talked through what she had bought and being forced to give opinions on the clothes she modelled for him. Unless, of course, she was modelling newly-purchased lingerie. In fact, he often insisted on being modelled for on those occasions. He never knew the right answer when quizzed about how _this_ dress made her calves look or how _that_ pair of shorts made her ass look. If he answered positively she would follow it up with several more equally as entrapping questions whereas if he answered negatively she would suddenly make it _his_ fault that her new item of clothing didn't quite look right. With lingerie, on the other hand, he wasn't exactly looking at what she was wearing, so he could _always_ give a positive answer and what usually followed that did not require much talking.

"Not really," she hummed playfully, tilting her head slightly to one side. Suddenly curious, he pushed himself upright.

"Are you drunk?" he asked with a grin. Her sudden 'normal' attitude had thrown him off a little.

"What? No," she dismissed. "I just...ah, never mind."

She gripped the edge of the sofa and pushed herself to her feet but did not anticipate the hands that moved to her waist. Impatiently, she tried to wiggle away from him but his grip was strong and possessive.

"Come on, Chris, it was just a kiss," she groaned.

'Exactly,' he thought with a smile. Two weeks of little more than a reluctant embrace and harsh beating had left him thinking that he would never taste those lips again. Sure, her kiss had not exactly been placed on his lips but it was more than he was expecting.

An attempt to return the favour proved fruitless, with her head turning mere seconds before his lips could make contact with her skin. Despite her avoidance, she ceased her struggling and moved her arms around his waist. It seemed as though physical contact was purely on her own terms, but it was something he was glad to see and willing to work with.

"I had salmon for lunch," she told him in an effort to stave off another display of affection. "My breath stinks."

The aroma of her perfume still lingered in the air so it was obvious to him that she was lying but he decided not to press the matter. His lips tingled, longing for her brief kiss to be completed.

Her hands disappeared as she pulled away, trailing over his hips. It gave him the distinct impression that she wanted more but dared not ask for it.

"Do we...do we really have to go to this?" she questioned without looking him in the eyes.

"You mean the counselling? Yes, we do."

A long, rattling sigh was drawn from her and with a shallow shrug she turned away from him. She had made it clear that she did not want to go through with it, that she thought it was pointless and unnescessary but he remained stubbornly set on the sessions. Sometimes he surprised even himself with his dedication to the cause. It did hurt him to see how frightened she appeared to be and had they been going for any other reason he would have considered cancelling or postponing their appointment, but he knew that they had no other option. The kiss had only encouraged him further, made him more adamant on going. Anything that would further coax her out of her shell...

"Speaking of which, if you want to get changed before we go I'd do it now," he reminded her. "I want to leave in ten minutes."

Silence fell upon them as she turned and walked back to him.

"I don't want to go," she stated simply in that stubborn tone he had grown annoyed of hearing. Her changes in mood had become unpredictable and he always dreaded the next time that her anger would rear its ugly head.

"I know that, but I'm not giving you any choice." He had learned that the best way to deal with her sudden mood swings was to react with one of his own; it had become obvious that reacting tenderly to one of her outbursts only fuelled her further and she would scream herself hoarse until her anger subsided, only to be replaced by tears and anguish. Responding to her outbursts with a firm voice and statements rather than suggestions usually caused her to storm off in irritation. He much preferred her to be mad at him than hearing her dreadful sobs from the wrong side of a locked bathroom door. All he wanted to do when he heard her tears was to hold her and shush them all away, but she never allowed him to, not anymore.

Sure enough, she huffed in disbelief and closed the remaining distance between them angrily.

"No choice?" she fumed. "Didn't you say that I couldn't tell you what to do? Yet you can boss me around? That hardly seems fair."

"I never said it was fair," he replied smoothly. His apparant lack of reaction to her anger knocked her back a little but she refused to let the subject drop.

"You'd honestly force me to do something I don't want to do?" she tried, tackling the subject from another angle. However, her question was heartfelt and he picked up on the hurt in her voice.

"Don't spin it like that," he begged, dropping the retaliation act.

"Then how do you want me to 'spin it'? I-I don't want to go, Chris. You can't make me go."

Her weak assertiveness hinted that perhaps she had been sharing her thoughts on the situation with Anna during their shopping trip and he couldn't help but curse their neighbour for planting the seeds of anarchy in her head.

"It's couple's counselling, Jill," he pointed out. "We both need to be there."

"Oh, yeah," she laughed incredulously. "Like you've always been counselling's biggest fan. I remember how much you used to hate our tri-monthly psych evaluations. You would have rather shot yourself in the foot than willingly see anyone who would try to tell you how you were feeling. Why are you so insistant on doing this? Are you getting some fucked-up kick out of it?"

"I don't want to argue with you," he sighed, not wanting her to get worked up before their appointment. "Please, just get your coat so we can go."

She scowled at hum furiously, his refusal to answer her question irritating her more than his insistance on getting counselling.

"I'm not going," she stated, turning on her heels and storming up the stairs.

Chris stared after her, his stomach in knots. He had honestly expected her to go along with him, as she had done with most of what he had suggested. Yet she proved to be most stubborn when in the midst of a mood swing and would be willing to do anything and everything she could to get at him. With one eye on the time, he dashed upstairs to join her.

He found her in their bedroom, casually fluffing up the pillows in a scene that would have amused him otherwise.

"Jill, you have to go," he insisted, though he was unable to maintain a strong tone of voice and she picked up on this. As expected, she exploited it.

"No I don't," she corrected. "You can't make me."

Silence hung between them once more and he raised a hand to his head, ruffling his thick hair as he searched his mind for some way to persuade her otherwise. Short of handcuffing her and carrying her to the clinic, he could think of nothing.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest, the tempo increasing with his desperation. He had an idea, it was about to come to fruition; he didn't want to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Still, Jill remained stubbornly set on defying him, on avoiding anything that would help her voice her problems. Chris was at the end of his rope and the only options left to him weren't pretty.

She continued to straighten the bed sheets, smoothing them out with her bare hands. Her beauty struck him even in a moment as desperate as the one they were sharing. He longed to run his fingers through the long blonde hair that rested carelessly on her shoulders, longed to feel her skin against his, to taste those pouty lips. She was perfect and she was his, yet he was forced to observe her from afar. All he saw was despair, emptiness. She was like a porcelein doll and it was evident that it would take little more than the bat of an eyelash to shatter her completely. He knew that he couldn't be there when that happened.

"I want a divorce," he stated. He regretted his words almost instantly when the alarm clock she had been holding slipped through her flaccid fingers and fell to the floor.

"W-what?" she gasped, pain etched into her voice. She appeared to be finding it difficult to breathe and sank onto the bed, clutching at her chest with a closed fist. All the time, her eyes never left his. They seemed to be searching his expression for some hint that he was lying. When they found nothing the tears broke free.

"I want a divorce," he repeated, hoping to God that she didn't call his bluff. "Our marriage is failing, Jill. This- This is our last shot, I don't know what else to do! I don't want to lose you, but...if you won't do this for us then you obviously don't want to fix this and our relationship, our _marriage_ obviously means nothing to you and is already over. If you won't even try then I won't, either."

He fought against his emotions, his heart telling him to take back his words and hold her. Inside he was crying out in protest, but he tried his hardest to ignore the pain that was so evident in the woman he loved. It killed him to know that he was the cause, but he continually reassured himself that it was for her benefit; if helping her in the long run meant hurting her a little now then it was a high price he would gladly pay.

"Chris-" she choked, her whole body shaking. Once again he felt her tears tug on his heartstrings, but he reluctantly refused to hold her. "Please don't do this."

"Then come with me," he asked. "Get help."

Her composure changed, her lips curling into a snarl. She was angry that he had cornered her in such a way but was too afraid of his threat to continue with her stubborn disobedience.

"You're a heartless bastard, you know that?" she growled as she jumped to her feet and pushed past him. Whether or not her words were true, Chris did not know. His heart seemed to have abandoned him in disgust at his actions.

Still, a sense of relief settled in his chest and he followed his wife down to the car.

* * *

The waiting room provided little comfort to the three couples that sat patiently on the plush leather sofas. Jill concluded that it felt more like a hotel than a clinic and despaired at the fact that this was still not enough to put her mind at ease. She had felt no compunction to flick through the weeks-old gossip magazines that lay on the low table in the centre of the arrangement, and the 'happy living' magazines seemed highly inappropriate. The pictures that decorated the walls were similar to what she would see in the home of a friend and even the television in the corner played an episode of some sitcom she had never seen before. If any of it was designed to make clients feel more comfortable, it failed in her case.

She chanced a quick glance at the other two couples and what she witnessed reinforced her thoughts that they did not need counselling. The man sitting across from her had his arm around a pretty red head, her fingers wrapped gently around his hand as they smiled unconvincingly at each other. 'Overcompensating,' she thought. Another couple on a sofa perpendicular to their own were seated several inches away from each other, making every possible effort not to acknowledge the other's presence. 'In denial'.

Her attention turned to her own husband, who sat possessively close to her, an arm resting harmlessly on the back of the sofa behind her. It occured to her that he had given her an opportunity to lean into him and allow him to bring this arm down around her shoulders, but she refused. She was still seething inwardly about his dirty tactics in getting her here. Still, his words had instilled a crippling sense of fear into her. Divorce? Her thoughts had not made sense to her in weeks, but she knew that the mere thought of losing Chris was enough to destroy her. She was hanging by a thread and she suddenly became aware of exactly what that thread was; him. If he left her, if he gave up hope, she didn't know what she would do. She knew that she wouldn't be able to carry on without him.

"It's going to be alright," he assured her, sensing her worry. A brief kiss to the temple emphasised his words but all she could do was turn away in disgust.

"It's easy enough for you to say," she whispered. Mentally, she slapped herself. Why did she have to act so hostile towards him? Was she not capable of a simple expression of love?

She recalled her earlier kiss, remembering how peaceful he had looked whilst sleeping on the sofa. So desperately did she want to curl up next to him, to feel his arms wrap around her and hold her close to his warm, hard body. He often attempted to hold her when he climbed into bed, but she would always shake him off. The idea was always so inviting, but his touch filled her with nothing but revulsion, reminding her of what a loathsome creature she was and how he deserved so much better. Yet that thought did not encourage her to leave him. It was a frustrating circumstance.

"Jill and Chris Redfield?" a deep voice called from one of the many doors that surrounded them. They both looked up at the exact same moment and witnessed a middle-aged man looking at each couple in turn. He was slender, with a full head of greying hair and a smile that irked Jill somewhat. Chris concluded that his smile was kind.

Chris rose first, holding out a hand to help Jill to her feet. She glanced at it once and pushed herself to her feet without his assistance. He did his best not to react, and made sure to follow her into the room, ready to push her gently if the need arose.

"Please, take a seat," the man invited, signalling to a sofa not disimmilar from that which they had just vacated. They were careful not to sit too close and turned inwards slightly so that were able to keep one eye him and the other on each other.

"I am Dr. Harold Johnson," he introduced himself. "Since this is your first session, I will use this time to get to know you better and to get a sense of how you can help each other. I am aware that this may be somewhat daunting to both of you but rest assured, you can trust me.

Jill scoffed silently, much to Chris's dismay.

"Thank you for fitting us on on such short notice," Chris said. "We really appreciate it."

His emphasis on 'we' did not go unnoticed and Jill rolled her eyes in irritation.

"I always do my best to help," Dr. Johnson returned. "Now, how long have you been together?"

Jill noticed that his eyes were on her and looked to Chris before speaking up.

"Six years," she informed him. "Married for almost two months. But we did spend two years apart."

"You took a break from your relationship?"

"Not exactly," she answered, crossing her legs impatiently. "I was...out of the country for two years. It was work-related."

Her eyes followed the pen that scraped against paper, noting down her words. 'What good will this do? Really' she asked herself.

"Hmm, okay," Dr. Johnson hummed with interest. "And you had no contact during this time?"

Jill shook her head solemnly, a fire igniting in her chest. The subject of her captivity was one she did not like to dwell on, especially not now.

"And how was your relationship when you returned? Did you reunite amicably or-"

"We were fine," she hissed, causing the doctor's head to snap up in one quick movement, eyes boring into hers. "We were better than fine, we were fantastic! We may have only been together for six years, but we were in love for much longer. Our circumstances just...they prevented us from ever acting on our feelings."

"Mrs. Redfield, I apologise for any offence caused, but these questions are designed to help me understand your position," he explained patiently. "Now, please, tell me about these 'circumstances'."

Her raging blood scorched her skin from the inside out, fingers digging into the soft material of the sofa. She could feel Chris's eyes on her and it made her more than uncomfortable.

"We, uh- We are survivors of Raccoon City," Chris spoke up. "We actually met when we worked for the S.T.A.R.S. unit-"

Jill tuned his voice out, her head suddenly pounding. With every word that was spoken, the futility of what they were doing was driven home with brutal force. It pained her that she couldn't care less, thankful only that her attendance meant that a divorce was no longer on the cards.

Tears stung her eyes when she recalled Chris's hurtful words. Of course she cared about their marriage; he just didn't understand. She felt so lost, searching for so long in the hollows of her mind for some sense of feeling, finding only cobwebs and bitter memories. Even Chris had begun to confuse her, stirring something deep within her that she was unable to recognise. He said that he loved her, but she no longer knew what that meant.

'Love sounds familiar, but the emotion escapes me,' she laughed to herself, remembering a song Anna had played in the car on the journey to the mall earlier that day. She wondered in fear if the song described how Chris felt towards her now, if she was his 'love that's meant to fade away'. Realising the morbidity of the song, she shook her thoughts away. 'Don't be stupid,' she told herself.

The horribly familiar numbness seized her as she attemped to dig deep and find some solace in any remaining emotion. She resigned herself to it, considering it payment for the lives she had taken. A painful, drawn-out death seemed a fitting punishment for what she had done.

A clock ticked silently above Dr. Johnson's desk and she watched the minute hand slowly click to the number one. She groaned inwardly, knowing that she had another fifty-five minutes of this torture to sit through.

_"Seven minutes." _The chidlish voice echoed in her head painfully, reverberating off the inside of her skull and filling the cavernous emptiness in seconds.

She made no attempt to fight it this time, worryingly only about being caught out.

_"Always precise with the timing," Irving laughed, amused at his own thoughts. "And always early, I see."_

_Her head turned, her concealed eyes following his gaze to the man who strolled into the large room._

_"I assume you have the money?"_

_Wesker placed a large case on the table before them, the weight sending a muffled thud through the air. Gloved fingers worked deftly to unlock the item and it was acheived in a matter of seconds. The contents appeared to be several bundles of American dollars, crammed into the small space with little regard for their integrity. Irving seemed to be pleased with the contents and nodded in approval as he reached into his pocket and handed a small key to the older man._

_"I saw him take down seven armed men," he commented, watching Wesker remove the bag he had placed over the head of his victim. "He's very strong; I had him shfting steel girders most of the time. Barely even broke a sweat."_

_Jill saw moisture glistening on the man's oversized biceps. He reminded her of a token Hollywood villain; the kind who would make a menacing entrance and usually be disposed of with minimal effort. She knew that this would not be the case with this man. Reinforced steel handcuffs bound him tightly, lengths of rope wound around his torso and ankles. Even she had experienced difficulty hauling his unconcious form into the back of Irving's truck and then into the laboratory._

_"He's perfect," Wesker spoke plainly. She knew from experience that it was the closest to a 'thank you' that Irving would get._

_"Out of curiosity, what are you gonna do with him?" Irving enquired. "That's a lot of money for one guy when you've already got hundreds of subjects."_

_Wesker turned smoothly to address him._

_"Money is meaningless to me," he told his inferior 'colleague'. "If you continue to do what I ask you to, you shall receive much more."_

_Irving opened his mouth to speak but seemed to decide against it and took a defensive position behind Jill. Her head moved as her eyes followed him, her body instinctively preparing to fight him off if he tried anything. Bound by her invisible restraints, she had come to learn a lot more about her basic instincts than she cared to know. The main detail seemed to be that she was wary of those behind her if she did not know them. Having been assigned to watch over Irving only the day before, she did not yet know him well enough for her body to trust him._

_A sharp 'click' pulled her attention back to her captor and she noticed a long needle that rested menacingly between his fingers. The man she had helped Irving kidnap for him fought desperately against his bindings, shouting and begging in a language she assumed to be Swahili. The surprise of discovering that she was in Africa still disturbed her. The BSAA had little reason to search for laboratories in Africa; it was a country plagued by those who sold bioweapons, not those who developed them. It was yet another reminder that help was not coming._

_"Is that P30?" Irving asked. "I thought it was useless without-"_

_"It is a high dosage," Wesker explained impatiently. "It is enough for his purpose."_

_Jill screamed out inside her head, forced to witness another subjected to the same fate as her. The needle pierced the man's dark skin and the liquid drained from the syringe. His struggle became more frantic in his last few seconds of freedom before he, like her, succumbed to its effects._

_"Did it take?" Excella's voice rang out, mechanical and cold. Wesker diverted his attention to a window against the opposite wall and signalled to her that it had._

_The handcuffs were unlocked, the rope cut, and he instructed the man to rise. Jill watched on in sympathy as the man obeyed without question. She could see the fear in his eyes, fear that she had once experienced herself. She no longer cared to wonder how long she had been captive. It felt like years, but she doubted that it had been that long._

_"Remove your cloak," Wesker instructed her, holding out his hand as she undressed. She placed her mask on the palm of his hand and draped the cloak over his outstretched arm. Irving eyed her up and down, no doubt noting how the suit Excella had given her clung to her curves._

_"Now, only one of you is getting out of this room alive," he told them. "When Irving and I leave, you will fight. You will not go easy on your opponent, you will kill them."_

_Jill's blood ran cold and she witnessed a similar reaction in the kidnapped man's eyes. He couldn't be serious! Was this a sick game?_

_"We will see how strength and agility square up against each other," Wesker explained to Irving. "Jill has years of military training behind her, she has brought down several of Umbrella's most powerful tyrants. On the other hand, this man possesses brute strength but no training."_

_"This is sick," Irving muttered in horror._

_"It was Excella's idea," Wesker shrugged, not caring whether or not it was sick or fair or even whether it was right._

_Without another word, he signalled for Irving to follow him and they left the two pawns to their devices._

_No sooner had they left the room, she found her body twisting backwards, her feet and hands hitting the floor in rapid succession as she flipped backwards over and over again. Her opponent moved with no such grace and barrelled towards her furiously with a tremendous roar, the simple sound of his feet thudding against the steel flooring enough to strike fear into her heart. For all her involvement in it, she was little more than a spectator to this battle...and she found herself cheering on the wrong participant._

_A fist swing forward clumsily and was easily dodged, leaving her able to perform a brutal counter-attack. Her hands wrapped around his large wrist, emphasising the sheer size of his muscles, and she used the leverage to swing around and slam her heels into his chest. The thud as he collided with the ground echoed around the empty room and before he could push himself to his feet, Jill found her legs wrapping around his midriff as her fists ploughed into him over and over again. She could feel his teeth crack against her knuckles and began struggling for control with more determination. Blood spattered up her arm as his nose broke with a swift strike to the septum._

_'Come on!' she screamed at herself, barely able to feel the dull pain in her knuckles. Her cry was answered when the man suddenly pushed himself up and his strength proved enough to bring her with him. Her thighs remained firmly round his midriff, arms thrusting back as she pushed against the floor and flipped his painfully heavy form. The fall did not deter him this time and he used the opportunity to catch her off-guard and kick her legs out from beneath her._

_The faint copper tang of blood filled her mouth, but she made no attempt to wipe the offending liquid away. Her moment of lapsed concentration cost her dearly and before she knew it she was finding it increasingly difficult to dodge the heavy blows that he sent in her direction. Ribs cracked, skin bruised and the repulsive taste in her mouth grew stronger._

_Her inner fighting ceased, the battle finally going how she had hoped it would. There was no rescue for her, no chance of regaining the life she had lost. Only death offered her the freedom she so desperately craved. It seemed, however, that the P30 in her system had other plans._

_A swift knee to the groin caused her opponent to double over in agony and her body jerked backwards once again as her world spun. The same furious roar that had signalled the beginning of the fight sounded behind her and she moved from her crouching position, arms steady by her side._

_In one fluid motion, she gripped the sides of the man's face and twisted with all of her strength. The resulting crack resounded around them, his head turning one hundred and eighty degrees. his body had barely hit the floor when the door whizzed open._

_"Amazing," Excella gasped. "Six minutes."_

_But Jill could not register her voice. Her eyes were fixed on the broken man at her feet, on the head that lay at a disturbingly unnatural angle and the blood that coated his face._

_'I killed him...'_

_Had she been in full control of her lungs, she was certain that her breathing would have ceased. Instead, her breaths were drawn slowly, her heart slowing to its natural rhythm. None of it helped to ease the distress that was felt in her soul._

_'I killed an innocent man...'_

_His situation was no different to hers; he had not wanted to fight, had not wanted to kill her. She had no reason to want this man dead; he was a worker, an innocent. The kind of person she had fought to protect._

_Deep inside of her, her predicament began to seem more real than she had been previously willing to accept...and she knew that the worst was yet to come._

"Mrs. Redfield?"

She looked Dr. Johnson in the eyes carefully, concealing her pain as she always did.

"I asked you how you felt about your relationship and where it is at currently?" he repeated, seeming unconcerned that she had missed almost ten minutes of the conversation. Beside her, Chris moved a hand over hers.

"I-I don't know," she answered, moving her hand out of her husband's reach. She noticed the colour drain from his face, but she was answering as honestly as she could.

She did not know how she felt, because it had been so long since she had felt _anything_. She thought that she loved him, but she couldn't say that. They would only take it the wrong way.

"I'm not a nice person," she said, pushing her honesty to its limits. "I don't deserve this."

The doctor's eyes seemed to search for an answer beyond her eyes and she turned her head away from him. She had told him the truth, what more did he want? How could she explain what she felt when she didn't know herself? All she felt was a persistant guilt that reminded her of her actions in the most inappropriate ways. She didn't want to lose Chris, so she could not open up; he would hate her if he knew, he would be deeply ashamed of her. They would all be. They would all leave her, and she knew that she couldn't handle being alone. In her isolation, the only solace was that she was not physically alone. It provided little comfort, but it was all that she had.

"I would beg to differ," Dr. Johnson told her sympathetically. What right did he have to be sympathetic? He didn't _know_ her and he sure as hell wouldn't care about her if they weren't paying him to. "But why do you think so?"

"You wouldn't understand," she said meekly. "Nobody would."

* * *

The air was chilly though not unpleasant, but Chris still slipped an arm around her as they left the clinic. Jill knew that he was disappointed, but what had he expected? She had given him all she could and had warned him that it would do them no good. The session had continued fruitlessly; she had answered every question with the same vague responses while Chris tried his best to explain exactly why their relationship was a joke. It sickened her to hear her problems spoken out loud but she tolerated it for the sake of peace. She only hoped that he had seen the futility of the sessions and would not insist on attending another.

"Do you want to take a walk?" he asked quietly. There was something in his voice that tugged on her heartstrings so she nodded in reply.

The clinic was situated in a pleasant area of the town, complete with trees and a large pond. Jill could picture their surroundings filled with children and their families in the summer, with an ice cream van in the parking lot and pedal boats floating gently on the surface of the water. At that moment, the area was almost empty.

A silent breeze brushed past them and the tranquility soothed her. It felt so peaceful and calm and the mere fact that she was able to appreciate this surprised her. Memories of fonder times floated to the surface of her mind, times when she would head to the park in Raccoon with a few of the guys and simply laze about on the grass all day. They were less complicated times and she knew that things had changed drastically since then. Chris always used to tease her amicably, wearing a smile that nobody could have removed back then. Now he seemed too afraid to make any sarcastic comments and the smile rarely surfaced.

"Let's sit down for a while," he suggested as the approached a wooden bench on the edge of the pond. Jill didn't not protest; she gladly accepted his suggestion and lowered herself onto the bench.

Not a word was spoken as they looked out across the misty surface of the water and his silence unnerved her. She missed the happy-go-lucky Chris and knew that she only had herself to blame for his recent melancholy behaviour. It was not his fault that she had been captured, it was not his fault that she had contributed to the production of Uroboros, and it sure as hell wasn't his fault that she killed all those people. The only person at fault was herself. It killed her that he wanted to be close to her and help her out but she physically could not let him in. She didn't want him to see the real her, to know that she was no different from the monster they had watched burn in the firey pit of the volcano he had been rescued from. She knew that she was no different to how she had been whilst under that monster's control; she was still hollow inside. Jill Valentine died in 2006 and she knew that she was living on borrowed time. It was as though she had been brought back from the dead with a large part of her still missing.

'I need him,' she thought sorrowfully. 'Damnit, I need him, but I can't stop pushing him away.'

It would be so simple to come clean then and there, to admit that she was living in a place far worse than hell. She had never had so much trouble scrounging up enough scraps of courage to perform _anything_.

"Jill, I-" Chris spoke, snapping her from her reverie. "We need to talk."

'Yes, we do! I don't want to handle this alone!'

"About what?" she asked timidly, cursing herself for being so cowardly. 'Just tell him! Come right out and say it! It will be like ripping off a band-aid; quick and painless.'

"I-I think I'm more serious about what I said before than I thought I was." His head hung low, his voice heavy with the pain he felt and a desperation that showed how close to breaking point he was. "For a different reason than what I said."

A sharp, stabbing pain erupted in Jill's chest, intensifying with every breath. She tried to focus on anything that would take her mind off it, anything that would help her take in his admission logically. But how the hell could she? He didn't want her anymore, he didn't care...he wanted out and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to keep him.

"I've tried _everything_ to get you to let me in, but-" His voice broke as he choked out a strangled sob. He turned to look at her, and what remained of her heart shattered when she saw the moisture in his eyes. A trembling hand rested gently on her cheek. "Jill, I know that you're hiding something from me. I can see it in your eyes, it's tearing you apart. Everytime I look at you, all I see is pain and I want to help you, more than anything. I d- I don't know what to do. But I can't stay and watch you fall apart. I can't- I can't handle that, Jill, I'm not strong enough."

Her lips brushed against the palm of his hand as she turned, her skin tingling beneath his. It stilled the pain in her heart only slightly but it was still not enough for her to find a few words to string together.

The reality of what he was suggesting sank in slowly. She didn't want to divorce him, not when she needed him so badly. She no longer felt numb, but the replacement sensation was no better. Her whole body burned with fear.

"Just...look me in the eye and tell me that you're alright and that you can handle this and I'll drop it," he requested. "If you can't do that, I'm gone. I know it's selfish, but I can't put myself through this anymore."

Jill's lips parted slightly as she turned from him, but no sound came out. If it was so simple, she would have told him how she felt weeks ago. He wouldn't understand, he couldn't.

Cool tears slid down her red cheeks, her ears picking up familiar chords from a song that drifted through the window of a nearby car. 'What the hell do I do?' She felt Chris's shoulders sag as her silence provided him with the answer he did not want to hear.

'He'll hate me, he'll walk out anyway. This way he won't know what I did. He'll...he'll hate me.'

_'Just one more line I repeat over and over again 'til I'm blue in the face with a choking regret.'_

The dryness of her mouth caused a wave of nausea to rise in her throat and the pounding in her head intensified with the crippling pain that she felt. She knew that it was the end of the line for her if he left, but she couldn't stand the thought of the man she loved and respected so much comparing her to the monster who had ruined their lives and murdered their friends.

_'Can't say I blame you one bit when you kept it all inside...when you left that night.'_

'You're better than he is,' a little voice told her. 'You broke free, you actually _care_ about the lives you took! Your actions weren't your own, they were _his_.'

It was a voice she had not heard since she had left Africa; the voice that had pulled her through those first few days and kept her safe and sound without the urge to put a bullet through her skull.

_'It's about time that you got sick of me, no longer fun and so far from interesting.'_

The song drifted through her mind, powering that small voice as it continued to give her the biggest pep talk of her life. It was almost enough to make her skull fracture from the sheer work that was going on inside.

'It's now or never. Now or never. _Now or never._'

"I love you," Chris whispered through his heartbreak. "And I'm sorry...I never wanted it to come to this."

_'Just one more line to keep me sleeping loudly and cold in disgrace with a shameful regret.'_

Jill drew a deep, stinging breath and closed her eyes, preparing herself for what was to come. She was dying inside, and knew that his departure would be the final nail in her coffin.

"I'm...not okay," she choked out with much effort. "I'm not okay."

Chris jerked suddenly in surprise, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

"I keep...remembering things, horrible things," she continued, ignoring a stronger voice that told her over and over again to shut the hell up. "I can't tell you how I feel, because I can't _feel_ anything. I don't even feel empty anymore, I just feel...dead."

_'And all that followed fell, like Mercury to hell. Somehow we lost our head for the last time.'_

His arms moved around her, pulling her into a desperate embrace and she allowed her body to go flaccid in his arms. The dam was broken and not even his loving gesture could chase back her tears now. She waited patiently for a reply, for his laughter and the accusation that she was stupid and weak, working herself up overnothing.

But it never came.

"Damn, Jill, why didn't you tell me this earlier?" he asked, speaking into her hair as he realised that her pain ran far deeper than he had anticipated. The warmth radiating from his body eased her shaking but he could tell that she was still panicking. "It's okay. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

_'And I don't dream since I quit sleeping, and I haven't slept since I met you.'_

The fear that had gripped her moments before dissipated and for the first time in God knows how long she felt pure, unadulterated adoration for the man who held her...and hope. She once again felt safe in his arms and cursed herself for not speaking up sooner.

'What the hell was I worrying about?'

She pulled back reluctantly, laughing in relief when she saw the blissful expression on his face.

"I'm so proud of you," he told her with the grin she had seen him sport many times before prior to her breakdown.

"Just...don't make me see anyone, please," she begged. "I can barely think about what happened, let alone tell a stranger."

"I won't," he assured her. "I don't want to force you into anything. As long as you talk to_ me_, and don't hold anything back. Let me help you, please."

_'And you can't sleep without coughing in daytime, and neither can I.'_

Her heart shuddered back to life with his words. A reply was not necessary, she would do whatever it took to keep him and at that moment he knew it, too. In a moment of weakness, she moved forward and captured his top lip between hers. Weeks of unexpressed emotions bloomed within both of them, and for once they actually realised what they had been missing. The spark was still there, that was for sure. A deep longing burned in the pit of her stomach as she opened her mouth to him. He tasted so different to how he had when they had first kissed; since he had given up smoking the toxic tint of tobacco no longer lingered on his breath and she was finally able to taste _him_. It was a taste that proved him to be superior to the men she had kissed before. Call it love, call it bias, call it whatever the hell you want, she knew that she could never settle for anything less than him.

Unfortunately the need to breathe ended their kiss long before either of them had wanted to. Chris rested his forehead gently against hers, placing a quick kiss on the side of her nose.

"Do you want to go back now?" he asked as she settled into him and rested her head on his shoulder, allowing her relief to continue to soothe her.

"Can we just sit for a while?" He smiled at her request and squeezed her shoulder gently. Of course they could.

He did not know if they would be alright or if her sudden confession would change anything, but it was a start. He already began to formulate a plan in his head, making a list of what he needed to do. He would search the internet, buy books...he would even ask Rebecca to introduce him to her Psychologist friend to get advice. Anything that would help her. He was admittedly a little disappointed with her reluctantce seek professional help but he had the feeling that doing so would only knock her back to square one and did not want that to happen. Guilt also consumed him as he considered his selfish behaviour concerning work. His problem was nothing compared to hers. Sure, he missed the field and the thrill of battle and was still unsure where his life was heading, but he knew that wherever he ended up career-wise it wouldn't be worth it if she wasn't there.

Their life was far from ideal and it irked him that even after his death, Wesker still managed to interfere in their lives. They had suffered through what many people would never see even in their nightmares, yet they had pulled through. They were far from perfect, but that was the beauty of it all; despite everything, they had each other. And that was all that mattered.

_'So what do you say...your coffin or mine?'_

**AN - Please review :).**


	7. A Beautiful Mistake

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **I won't lie, I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. I always sucked at writing fillers, lol. Hopefully the next chapter will be a little more exciting. I have a busy month coming up so the next few updates will be a little slower than usual, for which I apologise in advance. Once finals are over I'll hopefully be back on schedule. The chapter title is from a song by The Ataris.

I have to say: it's official, I love my readers :). Thank you all for following this story and a great big hug and thank you to everyone who reviewed since my last update: **Kenshin13, Tiger Snaps, Sparkle Valentine, Ryoko Metallium, Stardust4, MarnaLouw89, AsunderHorizon, Ruby Halo, xmenrocks, Devil Rebel, C. Redfield 86, Anonymous, Rugbyfan, Kira131, EnemyAce, janey's got a gun, tek **and** RukaStarr**! Apologies to anyone I may have missed off. Please, keep reviewing :). I really do love to hear your feedback and I appreciate everything.

I also apologise for referring to Africa as a country (thank you for pointing that out, Rugbyfan). I had a serious facepalm moment when I checked back and realised what I had done. And don't worry, Rugbyfan, I wasn't offended. If nobody points my mistakes out how am I supposed to know I've made them? lol.  
Also, thank you for the advice, Anonymous.

_**Chapter Six - **A Beautiful Mistake_

_"I don't want to fall asleep alone, but do I want to wake up with you?"_

Her world spun violently, stars whizzing across her field of vision. Even the hand she used to brace herself against the bed did little to restore her sense of balance. She found herself left with no option but to wait it out and after a few moments everything seemed to grind to a halt.

"You okay?" Chris asked with concern as he watched her wobble precariously as she stood.

"Yeah," she replied, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. "I just felt really dizzy..."

He threw the coat he had been turning the right way out onto the bed and moved towards her. A warm hand pressed to her forehead as the other slipped to her waist to hold her steady.

"Seems like you've got a bit of a temperature," he commented, the heat of her skin almost scorching his.

"Oh God, I hope I'm not coming down with something," she groaned. "This is all I need right now."

The simple thought of being bedridden filled her with more annoyance than she cared to tolerate. It had taken almost two weeks but she had finally begun to settle into a routine and adjust to the help that Chris offered her on a daily basis. His dedication to his promise moved her in a way she didn't think it would; she had half-assumed that he would give up after a few days. Yet she had never been more impressed with him and it gave her the hope that she needed to put in that extra bit of effort with her recovery. Granted, there were some things that she had yet to discuss with him, elements of her fractured psyche that she dared not reveal, but they were working together and at least making some progress. Still, in the back of her mind she couldn't help but wonder if she was asking too much of him. She knew that she did not deserve the love and attention he was showering on her, but she accepted it anyway.

"I'd tell you to get some rest, but all you seem to be doing lately is sleeping," Chris smirked. "You hungry? I could make you a sandwich. "

Jill's stomach seemed to turn inside out at the mere suggestion of food.

"Maybe just a glass of water," she requested, hoping that her stomach didn't make good on its threat to expel her breakfast.

"Coming right up."

She listened to his footsteps fade down the hall before stumbling into the bathroom and splashing cold water onto her face.

"Oh God," she muttered as she caught sight of her complexion. The colour had drained from her face, lending her skin a pale and sickly appearance. The light blue of her eyes seemed to pop and despite the many hours of sleep that she had been clocking up, her eyes looked bruised from the bags that hung beneath them.

Footsteps sounded behind her as Chris entered with the requested glass of water.

"Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?" he asked carefully, noting how the light of the bathroom emphasised her pale appearance.

She waved a hand in denial and greedily gulped down the whole glass in one breath.

"I'm fine, really," she assured him. "Just don't get too close. There's no sense in us both getting sick."

His doubt brought a frown to his features but he accepted her assurance. He saw little point in pressing matters that she did not wish to address. So far their 'talks' had went smoothly and amicably with not one raised voice and he wished them to continue that way. It was her stubborness that frustrated him as it meant he had to work that much harder to maintain their conversations. It seemed to be him that was doing all the work, but if it was the only way that she was willing to let him help then he would deal with it.

His nights had been restless, more often than not spent flicking through the literature that Rebecca had 'borrowed' from the hospital's medical library and loaned to him. The sheer amount of journals and plain text books that related to post-traumatic emotional difficulties had stunned him; he could never hope to wade through them all in the little time he had. Fortunately he had a plethora of sick days saved up that he was able to use and brought most of his paperwork home with him. It had begun to take its toll on him but he knew that he didn't have a hope of helping Jill if he didn't at least understand what she was going through from a theoretical viewpoint. He had found it more difficult than he had anticipated to come to terms with her symptoms, finding it even more difficult to not allow his findings to play on his emotional side.

'I don't know how she does it,' his initial reaction had been. Had he been in her position, he was sure that he would have given up. It was yet another testament to her strength and endurance, even if she believed that it had all withered away.

Sensing her worry over her recently-developed symptoms, he removed the glass from her hand and pulled her into a comforting embrace, which she gladly returned. Over the two weeks since her confession he had noticed her sleep patterns had almost switched completely. He could recall waking up in the dead of night to find her wide awake, staring into space. Now it was difficult to rouse her in the mornings and every little thing she did seemed to exhaust her beyond normal limits. From his reading he had come to expect a certain change in her physical health, but not on this kind of scale.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, prompted by his concern. "I mean, disregarding your dizziness?"

She sighed deeply into his shoulder. It was still difficult for her to admit what she felt but she had made a promise and owed it to both of them to make an effort.

"I still don't know," she admitted truthfully. "I'm still having nightmares, but I've also been having some weird-ass dreams."

"Flashbacks?" he asked and she shook her head in reply.

"They can't possibly be real," she laughed.

"I meant 'are you still having flashbacks?'" he clarifed.

She pulled back a little and drew a deep breath to settle her stomach.

"Yeah," she answered. "But I...I'd rather not-"

"Jill, you promised," he interrupted in warning, once again reminded of how much she was still holding back. It seemed as though he could do nothing to coax this information out of her and it worried him. What if she was concealing something important?

"I know I did, I just- You're going to have to give me time, I'm still getting used to this." She deliberately spoke in a low, trembling voice in the hopes that he would let it drop and not press her for information. Because truth be told, she was still not convinced that talking about her thoughts and feelings was helping. Most of the time she was left feeling shameful and embarassed. Of course, she would never admit this, not to him. He knew of her flashbacks but not of the content and she was happy with that arrangement.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm just finding it hard to help when I don't have the full picture. If I knew what you went through, maybe I'd be able to fully understand how you're feeling."

The glass slipped from his hand and landed gently onto the mat at their feet as she pushed him away from her in disgust.

"How could you _possibly_ understand how I'm feeling?" she questioned in a low growl. "You weren't there, you weren't-"

Chris did not react to her outburst as he had previously; he held back his urge to fight fire with fire and merely waited it out. Her face contorted with pain as she shook her head, willing her anger to subside.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, realising that she had allowed herself to get wound up again. It was an unnecessary apology but Chris saw it as another sign of improvement. "It's not your fault."

"Neither is it yours," he pointed out. Jill smiled meekly, having known he would react that way. Since he had no idea what exactly her flashbacks pertained to, he had taken to constantly reminding her that she was not at fault. She appreciated his attempts to make her feel better but he hadn't the slightest idea of what she had done and therefore could not pass judgement on her actions.

"I hope you feel better later," he said with a lopsided smile, deciding to change the subject before it angered her further. "Because I still intend on cooking dinner."

* * *

A cool breeze whipped around her pleasantly as she sat patiently on the steps outside their house, head between her knees. She was so damn sick of napping that she had decided to try another method of alleviating her sickness. Her aunt had always told her to 'get some fresh air' whenever she felt queasy and while she was reluctant to believe it when she was younger, it actually did work.

Jill curled her hands into fists around the fabric of her dress in an attempt to dissipate the tension she could feel building in her temples. The dull throbbing showed no signs of subsiding even as she began to slow her breathing; a technique Chris had suggested which had so far proven to be successful.

'Damnit, can't I get a break?'

The neighbourhood was quiet, which was to be expected at that time of day. She had grown to fear silence, lost in her own empty mind for too long. But this...this she didn't mind.

"Jill?"

She looked up slowly, thankful that her head had returned to normal. At least as normal as she could have hoped for given the circumstances. Travis King walked slowly across their immaculate lawn, twirling his car keys in one hand. Jill had not been given much of an opportunity to get to know the men of their neighbourhood, but had come to know Travis quite well through her friendship with his wife, Anna. Barely out of his twenties, he boasted a physique that was representative of his career in the US Marine Corps but a hairstyle that would have looked more appropriate on a professional skateboarder. She knew that he had been out of service for some time and as a result his blonde hair had grown to a length only slightly shorter than that of Leon's.

"You okay?" he asked as he approached the steps. "You didn't lock yourself out again, did you?"

Jill laughed awkwardly in embarassment as she recalled her little 'incident' several weeks ago.

"No, not this time," she smiled. "I just needed some fresh air."

"Sounds like a good idea," Travis nodded, pursing his lips to emphasise his agreement. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Jill told him, grateful for the offer of company. Travis reminded her a lot of Forest, and since Chris had taken to him almost immediately she assumed that she was not the only one who had made the comparison.

"Chris not in?" he asked curtly.

"Uh, yeah, he's watching some fight he missed last night," she answered. "I'm not that into boxing, so..." She drifted off wistfully as Travis nodded in understanding.

"You were looking a bit uneasy when I jumped out of the car. Thought I'd make sure you were alright in case he was out," he explained, though it was intended as more of a question.

"I, uh- Yeah, I'm fine," she stammered, thrown off by his concern. "I was just feeling a little unwell and thought the fresh air would help."

Travis smirked at her uneasily, not quite knowing what to say.

"So," Jill began in an attempt to drum up a conversation. "How are things with you? You got another tour coming up?"

"Nah," he dismissed casually. His tanned fingers ran up the length of his front door key, twirling it around as the others jangled musically beneath them. "They pretty much told me to go back whenever I feel like it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Though I honestly can't see them being left with any choice. My last psych evaluation wasn't exactly the best."

Jill turned from him in realisation, feeling a sudden bout of sympathy for her neighbour. She remembered the little that Anna had told her about his last tour, how a routine operation had gone hideously wrong and Travis had found himself in enemy hands. They were overwhelmed, she had said...they hadn't stood a chance. Out of the seven men that had been captured, only four made it back to their families.

"I'm sorry," she offered, though she knew her condolences would mean little to him, just as her friends' had meant almost nothing to her. "Anna told me about the, um...hostage situation. It can't have been easy."

Travis swallowed harshly as he let his keys fall back into his left hand.

"Look who's talking," he said, laughing incredulously. "For what it's worth, I really admire your strength. I was only gone for two weeks, you were in enemy hands for two years. And, well...bioterrorism; it's a nasty deal, you know? I don't know how the hell you're sitting here now. It would have killed me."

She didn't have the heart to point out that his evaluation was so far from the mark it was in a different playing field. Her heart bled for him, knowing that it must have been so much harder for a man to deal with the feelings of shame and inadequacy that had been plaguing her, especially with the machismo that was so often associated with being a Marine.

"It's not so bad," she lied. "No war was won without sacrifices."

"True," he considered. "Jill...if you don't mind me asking, how _did_ you cope with it?"

She turned her eyes away from him, cornered by his assumption.

"Chris," she told him after a long pause, knowing that it was not entirely untrue. "I wouldn't have got this far without him. He always kept me going, through everything...even when fighting seemed futile. He's the kind of guy who would go to the ends of the earth to help a friend in need. I guess that's one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him."

Travis nodded slowly.

"You're lucky to have each other," he told her. "Just like I'm lucky to have Anna. It just makes it easier to bear, knowing that someone cares for you despite all the shit you've been through."

Jill considered his words carefully. He had a point; Chris was trying his damned hardest to pry information from her and while she had told herself that he was just trying to interfere, deep down she knew that he only did it because he cared. She_ was_ lucky to have him, even if she was blind to the fact most of the time.

'I still don't know what he sees in me,' she sighed inwardly.

Travis coughed uncomfortably and pushed himself to his feet.

"I know you have Chris, but if you ever need to talk to someone...someone who can understand what you went through, I'm only a short hop over the fence," he offered, making an effort not to look her in the eye. She smiled and thanked him for his offer, knowing for a fact that she wouldn't take him up on it.

"Oh, and remind Chris about poker night on Saturday," he told her as he loosened up and his voice took on a more casual quality. "We missed him the last two weeks."

Jill's smile slowly faded as his words reached her.

"He uh- What?" she stuttered.

"I wouldn't be complaining if we were playing for money; he's too damn good," Travis laughed. "I spoke to him yesterday but he didn't give me an answer. It's no big deal if you guys are busy but it would be cool if he could make it."

Poker night had been one of the many highlights of the week as far as neighbourhood life went; the guys would get together with an old set of poker chips and a few cans of beer while the women would gossip about the men over a few bottles of wine. Jill had often felt uncomfortable in the presence of the other women, as she always had; she always found it easier to get along with men. Still, she would join them every week for the sake of getting to know her neighbours and made a few good friends out of it. Meanwhile, Chris would join the guys and often come home reeking of beer but seeming content. She figured that he needed his 'man time' and the other guys were often too exhausted from work to get together on weeknights. Poker night was the one night of the week where they could all get together and just relax. Which was why it had come as a surprise to her when Chris had announced that it had been cancelled not once, but twice. She never thought to question it...until now.

'Why did he tell me it was cancelled?'

She remembered the pizza they had shared the previous Saturday, and the movie they had suffered through the week before. He wasn't busy, had no prior commitments and the activities he chose to indulge in when he should have been knocking cans and winning chips and respect were little more than normal weeknight activities.

Standing unsteadily, she furrowed her brow in thought before walking back towards their front door. The latch had been left unhooked so she was able to push it open with minimal noise and slip silently inside. Chris remained on the couch where she had left him, eyes glued to the television. She made no attempts to stifle her footsteps as she began to make her way towards him.

"Hey, Chris?" she spoke as casually as possible. He hummed in response, tearing his eyes away from his programme for a brief moment to look at her as she spoke. "You doing anything Saturday night?"

"Not that I know of. Why?" He sounded so certain, so sure of himself. Jill frowned a little in dismay before pressing on.

"What about poker night?" she pried. "I thought it was back on this week?"

Chris turned away but signalled for her to join him on the sofa, which she did.

"No," he answered. "Not this week."

She remained unresponsive as an arm moved around her shoulders and warm lips brushed against her cold cheek. 'Why is he lying?'

"Actuallly, I was thinking maybe we could order in again?" he suggested with a smirk on his lips. "Watch a movie...just the two of us."

As his words sank in, realisation dawned on her and she huffed in disbelief. To satisfy her husband's curiosity, she nodded slowly in agreement. 'Why would he lie? Why would he stay home?' The two questions that were repeated over and over in her mind made little sense to her. Above everything, she assumed that he would appreciate the time off more when he was putting so much effort into helping her. She could see the bags beneath his eyes; she knew that he was exhausted from his efforts. It wasn't like him to pass up an opportunity like this. He had even applied for leave from his work-related duties and was rewarded it without question. He was as homebound as she was and she knew how boring the situation was.

Her eyes seemed to shut of their own accord as a wave of heat descended upon her, settling painfully in her abdomen. Stars seemed to float around her again, the colours of their living room becoming monochromatic and stale in a mere matter of seconds.

"Whoa, are you alright?" she heard Chris's voice call, but she could not focus on it long enough to formulate a coherent reply. "You're _white_."

A large bubble of air seemed to rise in her throat, a dull ache stinging in her sinuses. When she felt an unnatural twist in her abdomen she knew what was coming and pushed herself away from Chris and their new sofa in a hurry. Her legs did not seem capable of carrying her fast enough so, for all the good it would do, she pressed a pale hand to her lips and tried desperately to remember the cool breeze that had brushed against her skin less than ten minutes ago. A violent tug deep within her told her that she was too slow and she had barely gripped the edges of the toilet seat before the contents of her stomach expelled themselves into the porcelein bowl.

A vile aftertaste hung in her mouth and she recoiled in disgust, wanting to bat away the hands that reached round and held back her long hair. The heat that his body brought to her side caused her to retch uncomfortably but she adjusted soon enough.

"I really think you should see a doctor," Chris spoke softly as he held back her hair with one hand and rubbed her back soothingly with the other.

"I'm...fine," she gasped, a claim that was invalidated by a second expulsion into the murky water.

Jill had been ill many times before and had known that one good thing came from being physically sick; not only did it expel your previous meal but it also expelled all feelings of nausea and dizziness, leaving you feeling a million times better and several pounds lighter. She waited patiently for that feeling of pure wellness to hit her, but it never came. Her stomach felt somewhat settled but the threat of a relapse lingered. Chris's large hand seemed to alleviate some of her nauseous feelings with its gentle massage but it was a small comfort.

"I'll give you two days," he promised. "If you're still feeling like this in two days, I'm taking you to see someone no matter what you say."

A frustrated groan echoed around the spacious bathroom and she slapped his hands away in irritation.

"It's just 'flu," she concluded. "I'm getting the aches and pains, too. Give it a few days and I'll be a snivelling mess. I'll cope."

She reached up to flush the toilet before pushing herself away from the bowl and resting her back against the cool ceramic bath tub. The lid remained raised, ready for her stomach if it decided to turn on her again.

"Guess I have all the luck, huh?" she laughed in an attempt to turn the situation humorous as she sprayed a burst of air freshener in front of her.

"I'm glad that one of us is finding this funny," Chris bounced back, not amused in the slightest. Jill groaned in reply and wiped the cold sweat from her brow with the back of a pale hand.

"Lighten up, Chris," she warned. "Do you have to be so fucking pessimistic all the time?"

"I'm only worrying about you! I'm your husband, it kind of came with the job description."

She laughed quietly and stretched her legs out in front of her.

"Thank you," she said through a smirk. "You don't need to, and it's annoying as hell, but...thank you."

* * *

Chris did not like hospitals, and he hadn't for as long as he could remember. They brought back memories of dark times; of hearing the news that his parents had not survived the crash that had brought them there, that his sister's cough was more serious than a simple cold, that his partner was dead and it had not been some twisted, morphine-induced dream. No, Chris Redfield did not like hospitals.

The burning scent of cleaning products drifted around him as he walked casually past the nurses station, looking for a familiar face. He noticed that the ward was unusually quiet, finding a solitary nurse behind the plastic desk frowning at the chart before her.

"Hey," he said quietly as he approached. "I'm looking for Rebecca Chambers, she told me she was working on this ward today. Do you know where I can find her?"

The nurse looked up, her dark eyes lighting up when they met his.

"I-uh, Dr. Chambers?" she asked, seeming to be relieved that someone was talking to her. "She went for her lunch break about five minutes ago. I think she's in the cafeteria, one floor down."

He muttered a quick thanks and took off down the hallway, trying not to notice the suffocating sensation that rose in his chest, threatening to smother him with its presence. The feeling seemed to alleviate somewhat as he bounded into the stairwell and down the cold stone steps. His footsteps echoed around the hollow space, simulating the unnerved beeating of his heart. When he emerged onto the second floor of the department, he made his way past the gift shop to the cafeteria he could see at the other end of the hallway. As the clink of knives and forks became more audible the hospital seemed to melt away and his nerves were once again returned to normal.

The cafeteria was without a doubt the largest public room in the hospital; it served several departments and all major wards, including the emergency department. As it was lunchtime, it proved to be quite busy but he spotted his target without much of a problem. Rebecca sat alone at a small table, nose buried in a book as she slowly raised her lunch to her lips, one fry at a time. It was obvious that she was not in a hurry and Chris couldn't believe his luck.

He approached her quietly at first, noting the patience with which she slowly and carefully turned the page before her. He could vaguely make out seemingly random numbers and letters connected to a diagram that made his head spin simply by looking at it.

"Hey, Rebecca," he called softly, announcing his presence as quietly as he could. Despite his consideration she still jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Jeez, Chris," she breathed with a small, nervous laugh. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Maybe if you didn't have your head stuck in that book, I wouldn't," he laughed, patting her on the shoulder. Rebecca seemed to show offence at his referral to her enthralling literature as "that book" and glared at him through her bangs.

"This isn't just any book," she pointed out. "This is fascinating stuff, the theories are groundbreaking! I mean, the way the author takes- Oh, sorry."

She blushed deeply as she realised that Chris was not only uninterested in her book but also wouldn't understand a word of what she was saying. He was a smart guy, she would admit to that, but his intelligence lay in a different field to her own. In matters that required tactics and combat knowledge there were few who outperformed him but in matters of medicine he was useless. It saddened her to realise that her problem was the opposite; she excelled in medicine but her combat skills left a lot to be desired. She was always the team geek and had gotten used to the label. She owed a lot of her confidence to Chris, Jill and the many friends she had made through them; her intelligence was never an issue with them and they learned to love her for who she was. As a result, she had learned to love herself and had found the courage to seek out a job that both satisfied and stimulated her.

"What brings you here?" she asked, sensing that something wasn't quite right. She knew of his dislike of hospitals and acknowledged that the decision to wander through the wards hadn't come to him easily.

"I'd like to say I just wanted to catch up, but I do have an ulterior motive," he admitted.

"Shoot."

Chris took a deep breath while he collected his thoughts and noticed that she was giving him her complete, undivided attention.

"It's Jill," he explained. "We've been a little better, but... I still feel really lost. She's not completely opening up and I feel like I'm missing something. For the last few days she's been feeling unwell and I can't get the thought out of my head that she's making herself ill, wearing herself out. I- I need to know if I'm going too fast with this. I don't want to push her too hard; I know how close she is to snapping."

Rebecca's fries lay untouched to the side as she locked her fingers in front of her thoughtfully.

"I don't think you're going too fast," she told him. "But out of curiosity, exactly _how_ has she been feeling unwell? I mean, what are her symptoms?"

"Well," he began, allowing his mind to recap the events of the past few days. "She said that she's been getting aches and pains, headaches, dizziness... I've also noticed that she's been sleeping more often than usual and yesterday she was actually physically sick."

Rebecca's eyes drifted skyward and Chris could almost see her throught process. Her lips moved silently, repeating the suggestions that were running through her mind.

"Given her current state of mind, I'd say it's psychosomatic," she settled on, bringing her eyes back down to meet his. "It's hard to say without talking to her myself and giving her a thorough examination, but I'm willing to believe I'm right."

It was not the answer he had wanted to hear. Her words rang in his ears as his brain tried to process the new information

"You mean it's the stress?" he attempted to clarify. She responded with a slight shake of the head before placing her hands flat against the table.

"Like I said the other week, I believe she has post-traumatic stress disorder," she continued. "It is a psychiatric disorder and, like many other psychiatric disorders, it comes with physical symptoms. Hypersomnia - oversleeping - along with headaches, dizziness, nausea and even minor aches and pains are theoretically symptomatic of depression, which is an unfortunate side effect of her problem. The disorder itself is an anxiety disorder and high levels of anxiety can cause patients to feel so stressed out that they make themselves physically sick. Have you ever cried until you thought you could puke? It's kind of like that."

Chris looked away in horror as he listened carefully to her. It was a reaction he had experienced several times before whilst reading up on Jill's condition. Information like this would not normally have affected him so, but every word that he read brought him increasingly closer to realising exactly what she was going through and he sometimes found himself wondering if he could handle it. It was not something that he could take care of with a basic first aid kit or with painkillers and antiseptic; it was something completely and utterly out of his control, it was something dark and dangerous and it was something that caused her to suffer in a way he had striven to protect her from.

"So this is all because of..."

Rebecca nodded solemnly and reached out to take his hand.

"Don't let it throw you off," she persuaded him. "I know you didn't expect it to be easy and I'm not going to lie to you, it's going to get harder. But I know you're gonna make it...both of you. At least you better, because I'll lose all hope in love if you two split up."

He laughed quietly, but he knew that it was no joke. Rebecca hadn't been the luckiest person in love and he knew that it was far less than she deserved. It didn't seem fair that he should parade the fact that he was deeply and irreversibly in love with her best friend in front of her, but he needed her help and she was more than willing to listen to him.

"I do find it strange how her symptoms mirror that of the T-virus," Rebecca mused as she pushed a cold chip into her mouth. "It is quite an interesting way for her unconcious to manifest, given her circumstances."

Chris's hand paused half-way to her bowl at her thought.

"What do you mean?" His voice was suddenly etched with worry.

"Come on," she groaned. "You know the symptoms. Stage one; physical numbness, itching, intense hunger, but also dull aching in extremities, nausea and vomiting, migraines, constant tiredness and dizziness."

She looked up at her friend again as she realised what he had no doubt concluded.

"Oh, don't be stupid," she said with a roll of her eyes. "She's immune to the viruses, I confirmed that myself. Besides, if she's been feeling ill for the past few days she would have tried to eat you by now if she was infected."

Her reassurance did little to settle Chris's nerves. Theories began to surface in the depths of his mind and he didn't like a single one of them. 'What if Wesker infected her?' 'What if there was a failsafe in case she escaped?'

Seemingly able to read his thoughts, Rebecca coughed audibly and brought him back to reality.

"I know what you're thinking," she chided. "I'm just going to repeat that I ran her bloodwork through every test possible myself and she's clean. She possesses a base immunity to the toxins of the Stairway to the Sun flower, which means that she is immune to everything developed using those toxins; the Progenitor virus, the T-virus, Uroboros...even the G-virus wouldn't take. Most of Umbrella's - and Wesker's - biological weapons were derived from that plant; she is immune to anything he could have infected her with. Relax, Chris, she's not infected."

As much faith as he had in Rebecca's skills, his mind was not completely put to rest. Where Jill was concerned, he wanted to cover every base.

"If you don't believe me, shouldn't her medical results for the BSAA be back soon?"

Chris nodded in agreement, seeing her point. With the amount of screening they put their employees through, the BSAA medical team would be able to pick up even the smallest abnormality in her bloodwork.

"Please don't work yourself up about this," Rebecca begged, noticing his sombre expression. "You need to be strong for her. Plus, I don't want you going down the same path. Take care of her, but don't forget to take care of yourself, too."

She may as well have said nothing, because Chris quite frankly didn't give a damn about how he was doing. His willingness to help others even at great risk to himself was one of the many aspects that earned him both praise and respect in the old S.T.A.R.S. team, but it had also earned him several cases of disciplinary action within the Air Force as a result of disobeyed orders and general rudeness to the superiors that tried to stop him. It was a trait that he shared with Jill, only she seemed to be able to express her displeasure with certain orders in a more tactful way. When it came to Jill, Chris simply didn't know when to stop. Rebecca knew that when he said he would go to the ends of the Earth for someone, he wasn't quoting a metaphor. It was also why she was glad that he had been assigned the more sensitive Jill as his partner, to keep him in check. She often wondered if Wesker had come to the same conclusions as her and deliberately paired them up for this reason.

Will Jill's calming influence absent, she could only hope that Chris would know to take it easy this time.

"At least I know how to take care of myself," he sighed harshly. "For all the reading I've done, I still feel like I'm walking into this blindfolded. I'm even beginning to think that I can't help her. She's still holding back and...well, to be honest, I can't help but wonder if my pushing things is what's causing her to be so ill."

"Chris, please don't start like this," Rebecca begged with lidded eyes. "You really underestimate how much you mean to her; you simply being there will be enough for her. But it won't last forever, so you _have_ to push. I honestly don't know if the pressure of confiding in you is causing her symptoms but it really is better in the long run. If...if you're really that worried about her and can't wait for the BSAA results, bring her to see me and I can check her over. If you want me to check her bloodwork again, I can push it to the front of the queue and have the results within twenty-four hours."

Her small hands moved over his, squeezing it gently. He appreciated her gesture but knew that Jill would never go for it.

"I don't cope well with feelings," he told her with a nervous laugh. "I already feel like every ounce of testosterone has been drained from me. Still, I don't think twice about doing these things for her. It's pretty much second nature to me now. I don't even understand it most of the time."

"It's love," Rebecca concluded as she grinned at him. "You're not supposed to understand it; you're supposed to enjoy it and hold on to it...and you're doing just that. So is she."

Her hand slipped away from his and she flicked back the corner of her lab coat to glance upon the face of her watch.

"Oh crap," she gasped. "Guess I was more into that book than I thought. Sorry to cut this conversation short, but I've got to go. I've still got seven more samples I need to collect before I can clock off. Are you going to be okay?"

"Aren't I always?" Chris replied with a cheeky wink. It was enough to bring a smile to her face and she beamed at him, reaching over the table for a brief hug.

"If you need to talk more, you have my number," she murmured in his ear, her breath tickling his skin. "The same goes for Jill. Any time, just call."

* * *

It had been longer than she cared to remember since she had experienced a silence so profound. The usual feeilngs of loneliness and isolation seemed to be absent and she was left with a certain sense of tranquility and peace. She silently thanked Chris for the small mercy, knowing that she had felt more comfortable with her surroundings since he had been given temporary leave from work. It still surprised her that their bosses had agreed to it on such short notice but she chose not to dwell on the fact. After all, they _were_ Original Eleven employees. If there was one thing the BSAA had taught her it was that respect allowed you to get away with pretty much anything. Given that it was so hard to earn, especially as a female in a predominantly male business, she accepted the imbalance of power but made it a point not to abuse it.

Bored with the novel she had been flicking through, Jill rose from her empty bed and padded towards the main bathroom, legs wobbling all the way. While her sickness had eased off, the dizziness remained and she was still learning how to tolerate it without giving herself a headache. Truth be told, she preferred the nausea; at least she knew what to expect. With a yawn and a stretch she removed her robe and hung it neatly on the back of the door. Having bathed less than twenty minutes before, the bathroom remained pleasantly warm and the rich, fruity aroma of her bath salts still hung in the air.

'Man do I want to get back in the tub,' she thought to herself, remembering how soothing the warm water had felt against her skin and how relaxed and sensual it had made her feel. It made her feel - dare she say it? - like a _woman_ again, and not simply a person.

In one fluid motion she gathered her hair up into her right hand and twirled it together, hooking it up with two fingers.

'It's been so long since I cut my hair short,' she thought. 'Should I cut it again?' She had simply let it grow following her entry into the BSAA, finding it too much bother to continuously cut when she was constantly inundated with work. It had finally grown to a length that mirrored the style she had upon joining the S.T.A.R.S. team.

'What about the colour? Should I dye it back to my old natural colour?'

She allowed her hair to fall around her shoulders once again and shuddered as the ends tickled her bare shoulders. The blonde colouring seemed to compliment her skin tone but she couldn't help but wonder if it went with the soft blue of her pyjama top.

"What's the point?" she groaned, flicking it over her shoulders. "I'd never dye it anyway."

Her fingers remained on her shoulders and she found herself involuntarily tracing the outline of her cami, feeling the small scars on her chest beneath the tips. She followed the faint lines, tracing the smaller circles then the larger half-oval in the center. 'I really should see someone about these,' she thought, repulsed by the mere feel of them. Her fingers came to rest on the curve of her breast and she let out a frustrated yelp at the tenderness of the flesh beneath her touch.

"Damn PMS," she swore, silently cursing her assigned gender.

Growing bored of her afflictions, she left the bathroom to find that their bed remained empty.

'What the hell is he doing?' she wondered, her mind drifting to her husband alone in their study. Her boredom seemed to get the better of her and before she knew what she was doing she found her aching legs carrying her across the cool tiles and out into the hallway.

The deep, masculine tones of Chris's voice drifted towards her down the empty hallway, causing her to notice that the door to the study had been left slightly ajar. Jill had never been one to pry in the business of others, not even that of her husband, but decided that it was not against her morals to interrupt what sounded like a pretty intense concersation to simply ask when he would be joining her. The only negative to emerge from her unofficial therapy was that after many nights of falling asleep in the warmth and security of his arms, she had found it very difficult to enter a deep slumber when alone.

Her pace slowed as she neared the study, the soft carpet tickling her bare feet.

"-that I don't know how to deal with this." She came to a halt just outside the door, intending to wait for a break in the conversation. It was easy to tell from the tone of his voice that he was stressed and the last thing she wanted to do was to piss him off.

"Look, Dale, it's not my department," Chris growled into the receiver. Through the small opening she could see him ruffle his hair impatiently, his face contorted into a pained expression.

"I don't care if it's throwing the records off, Miller is handling that case- No, damnit, I can't afford to take this on as well!"

Her curiosity piqued, Jill settled stealthily against the wall, observing him with an intent she wasn't quite sure of herself. Guilt tugged on her conscience but she was too enthralled to take notice.

She watched him turn a few loose papers in front of him before scribbling something hastily onto one of them. His eyes would close often, as if chasing back a headache, and a hand would always follow to roughly massage his forehead. She wondered not only what the hell was bothering him but also why he was dealing with BSAA business when on leave.

"No, I can't come in," he sighed down the phone, keeping his voice hushed. It suddenly struck her that this was a conversation he did not want her to hear.

"I just- I just can't....Don't give me that, I'm on sick leave...How many ways do I have to say 'I don't fucking care!'?"

'Sick leave?' Jill repeated his words in her head but no matter how many times she did so, they failed to make any sense at all. Had it not been for her earlier conversation with Travis, she would have assumed that she had simply misunderstood, but she was left with no doubt in her mind as to what exactly he was doing in the study: work. 'I thought he was on leave?'

"I have more important things to take care of," she heard him whisper. "I'm overloaded with a backlog of paperwork and my wife is ill. On top of that, I'm running out of sick days so I simply don't have the time to take on any extra projects...Look, give it to Hodgens, he's free this week."

As he continued to blow off whoever was on the other end of the line, realisation sank in and the heavy guilt that came with it caused her to stumble back out of view. She found it difficult to fight back the tears that stung her eyes. Before it had all began, he promised her that he would do what it took to help her but even she did not think that he would go so far as to use up all of his sick days simply so he could remain at home with her. Of course she had appreciated his company, but she never conceived the idea that he would drop everything else; his work, his friends...

Memories of their argument returned and she recalled the choice words he had used to describe his work. It meant a hell of a lot to him, even if he was forced to remain behind a desk all day. Chris would never abandon his duties. At least that was what she had thought.

'It's all my fault,' she sobbed inwardly, cursing the pain that returned to seize her heart. She had never wanted him to sacrifice anything, yet here he was sacrificing_ everything_. His work, his friends, even his time alone.

Every wall he had broken down seemed to slowly rise within her mind as she clutched at her fragile head. How could he wear that smile when he looked at her, knowing that she was costing him dearly? How could he continue like this when it required the sacrifice of everything that meant anything to him? The pointlessness of his loss hit her continuously until she could bear the thought no longer. She wasn't getting any better and he sure as hell wasn't having fun.

"Fuck this," she heard Chris mutter from the depths of the study, followed moments later by the dull scrape of his chair against the carpet. Suddenly seized by panic, she scrambled to her feet and darted back into their bedroom, locking herself in the ensuite before she could even hear his footsteps. Her fear proved to be misguided, however, when no sound could be heard on the opposite side of the door.

She sank heavily onto the lid of the toilet, her head landing almost painfully in her hands. Once again it felt unnaturally heavy, her thoughts little more than heavy mist between her ears. She could not discern any rational theories, any suggestions as to why she may have been looking at things in the wrong way.

The relief she had felt since the day she had confessed began to evaporate, leaving her with the nothingness she hoped had been chased away for good. Frustration mingled with her pain as she realised that they had been doing nothing but running on a curve for weeks; a curve that had doubled back on itself to form a circle that left her right back where she had started. She had been willing to let Chris in because she was tired of constantly being afraid of her own mind, driving by the selfish desire to be free. It hit her now that it had been too much to ask for, that she didn't deserve to be free and this was the universe's way of telling her. Perhaps it was a test? Perhaps she was meant to witness Chris's struggle and be forced to choose between them. To her, the choice was so easy it insulted her intelligence. She was already broken, she didn't want to bring Chris down with her, not when he still had a chance.

"Jill?" she heard him call from their bedroom. "Are you alright?"

She wiped her eyes hastily and cleared her throat before replying.

"I'm fine," she answered in a sickeningly cheerful chirp. "I'm just getting ready for bed, I'll be out in a minute."

In a desperate hurry she jogged over to the sink and splashed a handful of cool water onto her face. It eased the redness of her cheeks, but not her troubled thoughts.

'He would be so much better off without me.' All this time she had been oblivious to the fact that she was holding him back. She knew that he would still be in the field if it weren't for her, he would still be happy, not using up what little sick days he had to watch bad daytime television with her and listen to her whine about her problems. If it weren't for her, he would be living closer to his sister and their friends and wouldn't have to wait until they were free to visit him before he could see them.

'Why the hell did you save me, Wesker?' Her thoughts of living on borrowed time returned and they had never made more sense to her than they had at that moment. She should have died that day. All that came of her rescue at the hands of her arch enemy was suffering. Kijuju, Uroboros...Chris.

She had existed solely in her own mind for so long that she still found it hard to come to terms with its sudden desolation. Still, the thoughts that floated in the void made a hell of a lot of sense.

'I can't stay,' she thought. 'He can't possibly be happy like this.'

The reflection before her stared back with empty eyes that seemed to taunt her with their mocking gaze, telling her that she wasn't strong enough to leave him. Deep down she knew this was true and turned away in fear as his threat of a divorce creeped up on her. She knew from the residual fear that she couldn't leave him for good.

'Than maybe for a little while?'

The idea of a break seemed to provide her with the answer she sought, but even that did not make her decision any easier to face.

"Jill?"

Her head snapped around, eyes trained on the locked door. She knew that she could delay no longer. The snap of the lock as she braced herself for a confrontation sent a shiver up her spine.

"I thought you were never going to come out," Chris laughed as she stepped back into their spacious bedroom. When her eyes landed on his shirtless form she could feel parts of her she had not been aware of in almost a month react in a way that proved most hampering to her plans. She thought it to be very unfair.

He wore a weary expression, the bags under his eyes more prominant that the ones under her own. Even his smile did not seem to reach his eyes and his stress was evident in his stance. An old S.T.A.R.S. T-shirt was pulled over his head, much to her dismay, and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, as though resigned to his tiredness. It played on her heartstrings in an annoyingly sympathetic manner and before she knew it she was crawling across the bed towards him. He flinched a little in surprise as her fingers began to work at the muscles around his shoulder blades, easing the tension out from beneath her fingertips. An appreciative groan spurred her on and she began to press harder, using her thumb to work in bigger circles. She could feel the knotted muscles ease beneath her touch and moved her hands further up, much to his satisfaction.

"Don't wear yourself out," she urged as she kissed the top of his head, thick brown hair tickling her nose. "It's bad for your health."

"Mmm," he groaned incoherently. "Speaking of health, I can see you're feeling better."

She did not want to admit that she felt as weary as he looked. The hope in his voice was enough to tell her to keep schtum.

The muscles beneath her fingers seemed somehow more pronounced than they were last time she had touched him in this way. She could feel every dip, the softness of his skin evident even through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. She allowed her fingers to move up, leaving the safely covered skin of his back to glide up his neck. The heat that radiated from his body burned beneath her fingertips and she was close enough to hear his breathing begin to hitch. In response, she slid her long fingers back to his shoulders and squeezed them gently before moving away.

'Stupid girl, this isn't how it's supposed to go,' she cursed, remembering the decision she had made whilst alone in the bathroom. This relationship was good for neither of them; it was intended to bind them together to share their love for one another but the only binding it seemed to be doing was him to her on her slow descent to hell. She didn't want to ruin one of the few genuinely good men left out there.

Still, the electric tingle that she had felt when their skin made contact must have meant that they were doing something right. Suddenly, she could think of nothing else but the blissful sensation of the friction created only by skin on skin contact, imagining his muscles surrounding her, protecting her, loving her...

He seemed surprisingly prepared for her as she moved quickly to settle in his lap, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist while he used both hands and those perfectly defined muscles to keep her from falling backwards.

"Thank you," he grinned, referring to her unexpected massage. The corners of his lips twisted into a smile as he gazed upon her face with an expression that could only be described as one of pure contentment. With a hand on each of his broad shoulders, she noted that the weariness and irritation that had haunted his eyes was no longer present. His pupils were dilated and had she not known he had spent the last three hours working in the study she would have assumed that he had been drinking. He seemed smitten, as though he were trying to figure out how she had come to be in his lap while at the same time not giving a damn, simply being pleased that she was there at all.

It made her decision that much harder to swallow. He was in love with her. She did not know why, but she understood that it was beyond all reason. If she could still elicit that reaction when he was as stressed out as he had been moments before...

'You know you can't go through with this,' a calm, rational voice told her. 'Look at him; it would break his heart! It would break yours, too.'

As selfishness took over, she leaned forward and kissed him passionately, holding nothing back. Her stomach seemed to tighten as he pulled her further into him, kissing her back as though he had never kissed her before. She had lost all sense, all reason and all rationality and snaked her hands beneath his T-shirt, feeling his hard, defined abs against the palms of her hands. Her fingers traced the ridges of muscles, her thumbs hooking his T-shirt and dragging it up his body.

"Jill," he groaned, attempting to push her back. When it became obvious that she could not be moved, he settled into the rhythm of her kiss and allowed his hands to do some exploring of their own.

Her whole body seemed to spring to life, her skin longing to be touched by the hands that had begun to move up the length of her body at an agonisingly slow speed. His nipples were hard against her palms as the T-shirt reached his armpits and he raised his arms for a moment to allow her to pull the pesky piece of fabric over his head.

"Jill, wait," Chris panted as she moved towards him once more. He needed to be sure of something and knew that once she started kissing him again he would be reduced to little more than a primitive animal. It was simply the effect she had on him.

As air rushed between their heaving bodies, Jill's mind began to clear and she was suddenly aware of what she was doing. Her hands rested on his muscular arms, her fingers tracing small concentric circles onto what they could reach of his triceps. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to lose herself to the physical sensations that made her intent on continuing the kiss.

'Come on,' the voice sang. 'You know it's guys that think with organs south of the brain. You're smarter than that. It's been a month since you gave yourself to him, you'd just be giving him false hope.'

'But I haven't felt so _alive_,' she retorted, closing her eyes to savour the feeling. The sexual urgency that rushed through her had surprised her at first. She knew all too well what had happened the last two times they had made love; what was to say this time would be any different? The thought of sex had never put her off; it was the lack of emotion that she had come to feel from the act that had caused her to rebuff his advances. It wasn't that she wanted to deny him the pleasure she seemed incapable of feeling; it was the fact that her unresponsiveness seemed to drive home the fact that their relationship was all but dead.

Suddenly, an idea hit her.

'Our relationship has begun to recover,' she told herself, choosing to temporarily ignore the cost that Chris was being forced to pay for it. 'Maybe...maybe it will be better this time?'

"Jill!" Chris called, noticing her far-away expression. She snapped her attention back to him and the pure lust in her eyes seemed to answer his question. Still, he needed to hear the words. "Are you sure about this?"

Jill's mind raced as she blindly searched in the dark chasm of her mind for a reason that would please the voice.

'Let this be a test,' she told it. 'If- If this goes well, I'll stay. If not...if not then I have to let him get on with his own life. I'll be no good to him.'

Her idea seemed to satisfy the voice, but the anticipation of what was to come suddenly turned sour. She knew that she wanted this, but to know that it could be the last time he held her? The thought almost killed her.

Chris waited patiently for an answer, his hands resting warmly on her back. Thinking of no words that would preserve the moment, she resumed their kiss, pressing her hips further into him. His weakened resistance as she teased his tongue with her own told her that he had accepted her silent answer. Satisfied that he had at least for now coaxed her out of her shell, he fell backwards onto the bed, groaning loudly at the sensational feel of her body against his. It had been far too long...

"God, I missed you," he moaned as her soft hair fell around his face.

She barely knew what she was doing, only that she didn't seem capable of doing it fast enough. Once more, she found herself dominated by her love for him, blind to the fact that this would kill both of them if she were to leave. How could she forget him? Even if it _was_ just for a while. He was damn near perfect, and she knew this all too well. She knew that she would never find anyone like him, that such a man didn't even exist. But she also knew that she didn't care, that he deserved much better than her and that he would easily find it when she was gone.

She also knew that he deserved one last thought, that she owed it to him to at least try to hold on.

If only it wasn't so damn hard to do.

**AN - Please review :).**


	8. Breathing

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **It took me a little longer than I hoped to get this up but I've been a lot busier than I thought I would be. Still, I managed to finish this (and I think I may have been struggling with writer's block as well as plain tiredness) and it's longer than usual so I hope you all enjoy it :). I think I over planned this chapter to be honest and I may have waffled on in parts so I apologise in advance for any mistakes. I should have really split this chapter in two but I didn't want to do that. Chapter title is from a song by Yellowcard (which I do not own).

Again, big, big thank you to all my reviewers. You know who you are: **Keybladem, namine redfield, RukaStarr, JILLsandwiches101, REfive2009, Agent-G, xmenrocks, MrsMoshae, Stardust4, Rugbyfan, tek, Captain Fox McCloud, Sparkle Valentine, MsValentine, michellex, Kira131, Ruby Halo, Devil Rebel, Tiger Snaps, Kenshin13, Ryoko Metallium and EnemyAce.** Also, thank you to everyone who wished me luck with my finals. Good luck to all of you out there who have them :).

**_Chapter Seven -_**_ Breathing_

_"How am I supposed to feel about the things I've done? I don't know if I should stay or turn around and run."_

It was early morning when the low rev of a motorcycle outside caused Jill to stir. The sheets were tangled, still damp with sweat, and the body that had loved her so passionately the night before remained pressed against hers, muscular arms holding her tightly. She smiled contentedly, recalling every tender touch, every euphoric sensation. It had been perfect; just like old times. Yet the relief she assumed that she would feel upon taking in this information did not show. She had promised the darkness within that she would remain with him if she was given a sign that showed her that their relationship was not doomed. Everything about their act had screamed passion, pleasure and love. It was a sign, there was no doubt about that, yet her mind seemed unwilling or unable to accept it.

He stirred beside her and she felt her body stiffen in response, afraid that he would move away.

"Chris?" she whispered.

"Mornin'," he announced weakly, his voice rumbling low in his throat.

"Hey," she murmured back, rolling out of his embrace to lie on her back so that she could see him. The arm that had lain across her stomach moments before moved back around her as he propped himself up onto an elbow and placed a tender kiss on her lips.

"You do know I have morning breath, right?" she asked with a smile. She felt the backs of his fingers slowly brush against her cheek, her skin tingling beneath his touch.

"I don't care," he sighed, allowing his head to fall back onto the pillow in exhaustion. His fatigue did not go unnoticed and Jill eyed him in concern, knowing from past experience that in a matter of minutes he would jump out of bed and get dressed before rushing to prepare breakfast.

Sure enough, he groaned loudly in annoyance, hands pressed tightly to his face, before moving to pull back the thin sheet that covered them. Her hand moved faster than he did and the delicate fingers that wrapped around his wrist impeded his progress.

"Go back to sleep," she urged in a smooth, silky voice that he had never disobeyed before.

"Jill, I can't," he moaned, obviously wishing that this was not the case. "It's...eight o'clock."

"Yes, and we didn't get to sleep until about two this morning," she pressed, moving closer so that her arm rested on his chest, further preventing him from moving. "You don't need to be anywhere, so just rest."

His eyelids drifted shut as he attempted to look her in the eyes and he realised that she had a point.

"Maybe another hour or so wouldn't hurt," he thought aloud, his voice barely audible as he once again drifted off to sleep. Her eyes remained on his sleeping form, watching him intently as she took in every line on his face, every minute wrinkle that defined his features and loaned him an air of wisdom and experience. She used her small thumb to trace his thin lips, noting that they felt much different under her fingertips than they did against her own lips. He did not stir beneath her touch, too exhausted to react to any physical contact.

She had never known him to give in to anyone so easily, not even to her. His stubborness had been one of his more annoying traits but it was not one of the more negotiable ones. There was no reasoning with him when he had his heart and mind set on something. Jill tried not to dwell on the thought, choosing instead to slide out from beneath the sheet that barely covered them, careful not to disturb her sleeping husband. Cool air rushed around her, her skin reacting in a most unpleasant way. She let out a little shiver in response and reached for the large T-shirt that lay less than a foot from the base of the bed. It never did occur to her exactly why her post-coital clothing of choice always seemed to be an item of Chris's wardrobe. Perhaps it was the way she could smell his natural scent in the fabric? Perhaps it was because she always seemed to unconciously throw it where she knew she would easily find it the next morning? Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that his shirts were large enough to cover her body to mid-thigh, so she only needed to slip into one item of clothing? Whatever it was, she did not break the pattern that morning. The fabric clung loosely to her form, the light sheen of sweat that remained on her glistening skin causing it to cling in several places. A quick shimmy and a tug quickly rectified this problem and she walked through to the bathroom to prepare for another long day of doing absolutely nothing.

Faint snores were audible behind her as she allowed the bathroom door to swing shut and she smiled in response. Chris's exhaustion was far from funny but she was glad that he had taken her advice for once.

The T-shirt fell silently to the floor once she pulled it over her head and casually turned the shower on. As usual, the water ran cold and she stepped aside to allow it time to warm up. Blonde hair in the mirror above the sink caught her attention and she spun around, cursing her stupidity when she realised that it was her own reflection. even after all this time her new colour still caught her off-guard sometimes. It was the unconcious decision to adopt that light shade of blonde that made her own hair seem somewhat unfamiliar to her. There was nothing that could be done about her damaged hair follicles and should she wish to return to her natural brunette it would have to be out of a bottle. She often harbored the desire to return to normal, to erase yet another reminder of her captivity and experimentation, but constantly dying her hair seemed to be too much of a hassle for her liking. Jill always was one for simplicity. She could not understand the other women she had known at the R.P.D., who would wake up several hours early on a morning just to apply an extra layer of foundation or another coating of fake tan. She never had any reason or desire to impress anyone and her job did not require her to look 'pretty'. Despite this, she still managed to impress someone enough for them to fall for her quirky, kick-ass charm.

Her fingers drifted over the surface of her skin, pleased at the light tan shade it had settled into. She had once feared that she would always appear as pale as she had upon leaving Africa but her somewhat lighter complexion turned out to be the result of spending so long out of direct sunlight. A few weeks and many days in the sun later and she was as good as new. She did not like to think about how much she owed Excella and Wesker for forcing her to wear the awful cloak and mask she had been given. Had she spent the many weeks she was ordered to follow Irving without any barrier between her exposed skin and the African sun her skin would no doubt have been damaged beyond repair.

As her fingers moved up her arm, they found the remnants of a scar on her left shoulder, partially healed by the effects of Excella's stasis tube. It was the only visible evidence of her infection at the hands of the Nemesis monster eleven years ago. It seemed silly to her that she should grow so fond of such an injury but it was an injury that had instilled a deep sense of trust and appreciation towards Carlos. Prior to her infection she had been dubious about his intentions, knowing first hand that employees of Umbrella were devious, deceitful and not to be trusted. She had not asked Carlos to save her - in fact, she had asked him to do the complete opposite - but he put his own life in danger to save hers when it was not even certain that she _could_ be saved.

The scar was now little more than a slightly discoloured patch of skin but she knew that it represented a trust that had not been broken, and also an infection that had saved her from a horrifying transformation at the hands of Wesker. She relished the distinction, looking on it as a beauty mark and not a disfiguration. Long fingers continued to trace the outline until they moved down to her shoulder, resting on a small red mark just below her collar bone.

"What the hell?" she muttered, leaning closer to the mirror. It seemed almost like a bruise; reddish purple and roughly the size of her thumb nail. It was almost like...

"Bastard," she fumed, though laughter betrayed her anger. They had more than made up for lost time and she could barely remember where his lips had been at any precise moment; she did not think there was an inch of her skin that he had not kissed. The position of the hickey seemed almost deliberate; it would be hidden even by the strap of a tank top. She made a mental note to repay him for his cheeky gesture as he knew fine well how she reacted the last time he had left his mark on her.

The heavy droplets of water that fell from the shower head beat down hard on the floor of the shower, the resulting sound reminding her that she had left the water running. Her attention shifted to the large shower cubicle and she flicked her hair over her shoulders as she stepped under the warm spray.

* * *

A familiar hiss of water roused him from his light slumber and the lack of heat beside him only signified how pointless staying in bed was. He had too much work to do, he couldn't just lie around all day. Reluctantly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on his discarded boxers. No amount of searching turned up his lost T-shirt and he gave it up as a lost cause before choosing to simply go shirtless.

Curiously enough his search led him dangerously close to the bathroom door and he could not help but to move closer, listening intently to the sounds that drifted through the painted wood. The running water drowned out all but a few sighs and deep breaths. He could almost picture her moving under the spray, throwing her head back as she scooped her long hair into a solitary hand.

Before he knew what he was doing, he found his hand resting on the cold steel of the door handle, the urge to press down overpowering. When he withdrew his resistance he found that the door slid open easily, no lock holding it in place. It was enough to bring a smile to his face; for nigh on two months she had settled into the habit of locking the bathroom door behind her. Pushing his happiness at this progress aside, he stepped into the small ensuite and closed the door quietly behind him. His attention turned almost immediately to the smoked glass of the shower screen and the figure that was sillhouetted beneath the falling water. A sharp, breathtaking sigh escaped him and he shook his head to remove the impure thoughts that began to flash through it. It was better if she came to him...

With a breathless gasp for air, the water was shut off and the screen door moved just enough for a glistening hand to slide out and blindly fumble for a towel that hung on the adjacent wall. Moments later the hand disappeared back into the shower cubicle, as did the towel.

"Hey," Chris announced, not wanting his sudden presence to frighten her.

"Hey," she called back as she stepped out of the shower, the thick white towel covering her from underam to mid-thigh. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

He noticed the raised eyebrow she used to emphasise her question and shrugged it off.

"Couldn't sleep," he told her, moving close enough that he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo. "Now I just plain don't want to."

She allowed him to capture her lips with his and responded enthusiastically to his kiss. The fingers that began to dance up her thigh, however, proved to be too much and she batted them away, breaking the kiss as punishment.

"Not until you get some rest," she teased, voice rich with uncertainty. Sensing her discomfort, he moved back half a step but raised a hand to push back her damp hair. The minimal physical contact seemed to please her and a smile appeared on her pink lips. The heat from the shower had caused her cheeks to flush a light shade of crimson and he found it quite endearing. She looked almost, well..._cute_.

Without warning, she recoiled, her body twitching in a violent spasm. She suddenly spun round and leapt for the nearby toilet bowl.

Chris chose to look away, knowing what would follow. True to his assumption, a retch and shallow splash could be heard soon after.

"Irony, huh?" he commented, laughing to mask his worry as he knelt behind her and pulled her flyaway hair out of the line of fire. "Taking showers when you're ill is pointless."

Jill groaned loudly, making no effort to lift her head away from the cool porcelein. It was almost as though she had given up, resigning herself to the fact that she was ill and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

"Yeah," she gasped as she used both hands to brace herself against the seat. "Should have known, really."

Her nervous laugh did little to still her husband's fear. Rebecca's words haunted him, her flippant comment about the T-virus lingering like a bad smell. Wesker was an evil son of a bitch, he knew that much; it wouldn't be past him to infect her. He knew Jill, he knew how strong she was. He would have known that she would have tried to escape. The man was no stranger to unstable viral technology. Perhaps the device on her chest had been administering more than P30; perhaps it had been administering a temporary antidote to some fucked up virus?

'But it has been over a year,' he reminded himself. 'Rebecca was right; if she was infected she would have shown symptoms long before now'.

The helplessness that he felt bothered him in a way nothing had before. This was Jill; his _wife_. As a husband it was his duty to protect her, to shield her from harm. Fate truly did possess a sick sense of humour if he were simply meant to watch her suffer.

He noted the expression that she wore; one of almost complete resignation. All of the progress they had acheived over the weeks seemed to be unravelling before his eyes.

"Don't worry about me," she muttered with lidded eyes, her skin as pale as it had been on the day of her rescue. "Just go rest, you need it more than I do."

"I can't," he protested as he placed a hand on each of her cheeks, examining her features as though he knew what he was looking for. "Not when you're like this. _You_ should be the one resting. Put your feet up, I'll make you breakfast."

Her eyes opened wide in annoyance though it was obvious from her expression that she knew objecting was futile. Chris did not see a problem in his actions; he would do whatever it took to help her recover and if that meant being two steps away from becoming a housewife then so be it. He failed to see the annoyance that she so desperately tried to convey with her simple glare but he remained stubbornly fixed in his ways, seeing no other option.

"Did you have any plans for today?" she enquired with an inquisitive glance. "And be honest."

"I was going to run in to HQ for an hour or so to file some recruit transfers," he sighed. "Anderson has been making a mess of everything, beats me why they even hired the guy. But I'm not leaving you like this."

She frowned gently and pushed his hands away from her face.

"Go," she instructed harshly, her eyes narrowed in a rather threatening manner.

"But-"

"Look, I'll make you a deal," she offered. Her determination surprised Chris and he could barely surpress the smile that threatened to show. "You go file the transfers and I'll put my feet up for a while."

He eyed her dubiously, not wanting to leave her even for an hour. Aside from her ill health, he worried what she could do to herself in a moment of weakness. However, he also knew that he couldn't go on like this, he couldn't possibly stay with her every waking hour. In the long run it would do nothing to help her.

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "But I want you to call me if you need me, and I want you to actually rest."

Jill smiled at him in reassurance and his concern began to fade. He felt a little sheepish for treating her like this, like a child who needed to be watched over constantly, but he was afraid that he would miss the opportunity to coax the information she had been concealing out of her.

"I will," she assured him as she pushed herself to her feet and quickly flushed the toilet. She wobbled a little but quickly stabilised herself. "Now go."

* * *

Staying true to her word proved to be harder than she had anticipated. Despite the genuine fatigue that continued to envelope her, she could not lie still long enough to nap and could not for the life of her concentrate on the activities she chose to take her mind off her restlessness. Several days' worth of dirty dishes remained untouched in the dishwasher and she knew that the oven had not been cleaned in over a week. The urge to complete these simple household tasks irritated her to the point of running upstairs simply to escape being near them. Her life had always been so hectic, even in high school. If there was one lesson that her mother's untimely death had taught her it was that time was short and not a moment of it should be wasted. She knew that she had wasted too much of her life without Chris and now that they were married and in the perfect position to start a family, her mind had decided to turn against her, leaving her unable to enjoy her newfound freedom. Even her work life was dead. It had been one month since the BSAA had repeated her medical examination and she had still not heard a word from them. The words 'incompetent' and 'joke' came to mind but she chose not to charge down to HQ and demand to know what was going on. Despite the boredom that drove her almost to insanity, she appreciated the extra time she had to spend with Chris.

"Is it worth it?" she pondered, remembering the state he was in the previous night. Despite his exhaustion he had pulled out all the stops, making sure that she felt as loved and cherished as he always told her she deserved. Guilt descended upon her as she realised that their activities would have only worn him out further.

'Does everything I do have to hurt him?'

The uncertainty she had felt earlier that morning returned and she shuddered from the thoughts that had been haunting her. It always seemed to be the case that when one part of an individual's life begins to go well, another will fall spectacularly to pieces. Their relationship was recovering and the concept of love was becoming more familiar to her by the day, yet at the same time Chris's life was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She never wanted him to babysit her but it was what he had insisted on doing and she would admit that it did make her feel more comfortable with her feelings. It showed her, if only for occasional brief moments, that she was not alone, that there was still something out there worth living for. But how could she feel comfortable with this arrangement, knowing that it was costing him so much?

'I have to get through to him,' she told herself, knowing that this would be quite difficult given that he was more stubborn than her at times. If she was going to stay, he needed to see that she wasn't worth risking his health for.

The handset that rested on the bedside table sprung to life, startling her. She laughed at her own stupidity as she reached for the phone, hoping and praying that the voice on the other end would belong to her husband.

"Jill Redfield?" an annoyingly familiar voice asked. Jill's smile widened as she matched a face with the voice and realised what this meant.

"Holly Parker?" she asked, her voice unusally jovial. There was silence on the other end of the line as Holly thought for a moment, questioning if she had dialled the right number.

"Yes," she continued slowly. Memories of their last telephone conversation returned and none of them were pleasant. "I am calling to inform you that we have the results of the medical you underwent several weeks ago."

"Oh thank God," Jill sighed, giddy with relief. The thought of waking up with a purpose appealed to her far more than she thought it would and already she began to plan how she would spend her first day at work.

"Please, don't get too excited," Holly pleaded with a nervous laugh. Her trepidation wiped the smile from Jill's face and she sat upright, listening intently.

"Don't tell me they are incomplete," she begged, fearing a repeat of last time.

"No, no, they are all here," Holly assured her. "We actually...we had to run a repeat test on your bloodwork, that is why the results have taken so long to get back to us. We're going to need you to come in to collect your results in person."

Jill opened her mouth to reply but her jaw snapped shut in surprise. Hundreds of employees were put through the standard medical check frequently and it was a simple procedure; so simple that even a phone call was considered a formality in confirming their eligibility to work.

"I-in person?" she repeated. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"It would probably save us both time if I asked you if your medical situation - your health - has changed since we last spoke to you?"

Jill paused momentarily, considering any and all possibilities that came to mind.

"I- No," she lied, voice shaking in fear. "Well, I've been- I seem to be coming down with 'flu or something, but that's not- that's nothing, right?"

She heard Holly sigh deeply and laugh quietly to herself.

"I'm afraid that I am not at liberty to discuss your results over the phone-"

"Holly, if- if there's something wrong with me, I have a right to know!"

"All I can tell you is that an...well an _anomaly_ was discovered when our labs were analysing your bloodwork," Holly informed her as reassuringly as she could. "But I don't want you to panic. I think it's best if we talk as soon as possible. I can fit you in at two o'clock if you're free?"

"Yes, I'm free," Jill breathed, thankful that she only had to wait three hours. Still, the information hit her like an anvil to the temple and Holly's words had left her reeling. "But can't you just tell me now?"

"I wish I could, Jill, I really do, but I could lose my job if I discussed private medical details over the telephone. I'll see you at two o'clock."

Jill muttered a quick farewell before the phone fell through her limp fingers and hit the floor with a resonating thud. All of a sudden dizziness overcame her and the room seemed to spin violently, tossing her stomach around as though it were a bean bag. She barely made it to the bathroom before she found herself being violently sick again, tears stinging her eyes as her stomach drained itself of its contents.

'There's something wrong with me,' she panicked. 'I just know it.'

The bathroom continued to spin, her throat bruning as she gasped for air.

_The dim lights of the laboratory scorched her retinas as she slowly opened her eyes. Her head hung low, too heavy to raise. A dull scrape sounded somewhere in the room and she longed to find the source but she knew that movement would be futile._

_A finger twitched. It was a small movement but it was voluntary and it was all it took for her enitire body to react, preparing to jump from her seat and make a run for it while she could. It became obvious that her sudden reclaim of control was not her doing as the chains that bound her to the cold steel chair rattled ominously._

_'What's the use?'_

_She knew that struggling would be fruitless, that even hoping that she stood a chance of escaping was reckless. Three times she had attempted to escape. Three times she had failed. Wesker had been tried and tested to the end of his patience and had made it more than clear that he would no tolerate further disobedience. The frequency of her dosage of P30 had been increased yet again, propelling her into what Wesker referred to as a 'further advanced stage'. Administration had become more than just uncomfortable; it now borderlined on downright painful._

_"I see you are awake," Wesker commented. She did not bother to look up, having grown sick and tired of the mere sight of his face. "What's the matter? Speechless?"_

_Her head continued to hang uselessly in front of her and for the first time she noticed that the device he had affixed to her chest was absent. The flesh-coloured tubes remained attached to the metallic base but the plastic dome was missing, exposing the wires that lay beyond. To say that this suprised her would be understating the situation; even when the device was restocked she remained under Wesker's control. It was not like him to completely remove the device and allow her to remain concious, bound or not._

_"Come on, Jill," Wesker taunted, unable to conceal the disappointment in his tone. "This isn't like you. No swearing, no condemning me to hell? Granted, it has been a while since we spoke. Five months, if my memory serves me. And oh how you have impressed me in that time. Even I did not expect you to be so powerful, so...brutal. I am very proud of you, Jill."_

_Her breath caught in her throat, a strangled sob barely escaping her moist lips. Had it only been five months? It surprised her that she cared, having disconnected from her own mind long ago. Despite her mental block she could still remember every horrific act that she had been forced to perform in the name of Albert Wesker. She had assumed that her anguish would fade in time, that she would grow numb to the torment, but she was not even granted this reprieve. Instead, she was left to wallow in the pain, forced to witness everything. The humid heat of Africa could have fooled her that she was in hell but she knew that she was not quite there yet, that she lingered in a torturous limbo from which there was no hope of escape. There was no heaven for her, no hell...only herself._

_Wesker observed her with interest, noting her unresponsiveness. She could feel his footsteps drawing nearer but still she did not move. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut but still a single tear escaped, meandering down her cheek unimpeded. A sense of shame washed over her, the knowledge that she had shown weakness in front of her enemy mortifying her to the core._

_She sensed him pause and lower himself to his knees before her and a moment later a gloved thumb wiped away the tear. The chains at her wrists rattled gently as she moved away from his hand, memories of Chris performing the same action following the incident at the mansion rushing to the forefront of her mind. Never had she wanted to equate her captor with her lover, no…her _former_ lover. Her resistance weakened as she thought of the life she had left behind, of the love that she had waited so long to find only to exchange it for a life of cruelty._

_Wesker's hand held her chin roughly and tilted her head back, forcing her to look him in the eyes. It surprised her to see that he was not wearing the glasses that he was rarely seen without. She had never seen his eyes up close before but it was not the colour that unnerved her; it was the complete lack of emotion that lay beyond. As he gazed at her, basking in her fear, his eyes showed no pleasure, no glee, not even a sadistic sense of satisfaction. She could remember the Wesker that she had known in S.T.A.R.S. and knew that the man who knelt before her was not the same person. Captain Albert Wesker had been a cold and often unfriendly man but there had always been a sense of humanity about him. The Wesker before her did not seem to understand what it meant to be human. He studied her distress but did not appear to understand it. He registered that it was behaviour he had not witnessed in her previously but it seemed as though he could not understand why she was hurting when he himself had performed acts far worse than what he had forced her to carry out. _

_This knowledge fuelled the dwindling strength within her, reminding her that she was nothing like him. Behind her cold, dead eyes she at least retained her humanity and what was left of her dignity. The passion that burned in her heart could not be doused and despite her resignation to her fate, she prayed for those who had suffered because of her._

_"Are you not even going to beg for your life?" Wesker asked, his voice taking on an almost concerned quality. Had she not known him better she would have thought that he was concerned that perhaps they had pushed her too far. Instead, she knew that he was confused and perhaps disappointed._

_His hand disappeared as he shrugged nonchalantly and carefully began to unlock one of her wrist restraints. Her arm remained limp even as he began to remove her glove and push back the tight sleeve of her suit. A quick glance over the top of his head provided her with a view of a nearby counter, upon which the plastic dome of the device on her chest rested, along with a microchip that she had not seen before._

_A sharp pain in the crook of her arm caused her to jolt in surprise, her eyes snapping down to the needle that had been forced into her vein._

_"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, the little colour left in her draining from her features._

_"Making sure that I am well prepared," he commented, attaching a small tube onto the end of the needle. Jill could only watch as the tube filled with a deep crimson liquid. As soon as her blood had filled the instrument, Wesker produced a second._

_"Stop it!" she cried, jerking her arm_ _away. The needle slipped out of her arm, the small_ _glass vial shattering against a nearby worktop, causing her blood to pool on the floor below._

_Surprisingly, Wesker did not retaliate and simply moved to clear up the blood, placing the vial that had been successfully filled into the workstation beside the microchip._

_"What the hell do you need my blood for?" she demanded in a low growl, her voice unsteady due to the strange nature of speaking._

_"I suppose there is no harm in telling you," he mused as he picked up a clipboard and scribbled a few notes down. "I told you last year that my intention was to use you as a test subject for a new virus I was working on. Well, the virus was incomplete; it was too toxic for humans and so proved useless for its purpose. I was forced to...store you away until I perfected the proccess. I did not realise the significance of your previous T-virus infection until the dormant virus in your system was awoken and your body seemed to fight it off quite easily. It seems that your body had developed a unique form of protection against not only the T-virus but also the Progenitor virus and the base toxin of the virus I have been working on. While it rendered you useless as a test subject, it provided me with antibodies that reduced the toxicity of Uroboros and made it viable for human infection."_

_"You...you used my blood to complete your virus?" she whispered, the truth hitting her hard and fast. "You used me..."_

_Wesker did not seem to care that his revelation disturbed her._

_"Yes, I did," he confirmed, seeming pleased that his words affected her so. "I really should thank you. You see, Uroboros is a new strain of viral technology that is designed to give evolution a little kick-start. Those with superior DNA - which I am sure you have - will evolve to a higher state of being much more worthy of becoming the dominant species of this planet. The rest will...well, it will not be pleasant."_

_Her blood ran cold as the true meaning of his words sunk in._

_"You're planning to release this virus," she gasped, her chest heaving as she suddenly began finding it difficult to breathe. "You're going to infect everyone...worldwide."_

_A sadistic smile formed on his thin lips, a sneer following as he prepared to drive the knife home._

_"Most of them will die," he told her. "But you won't. If you prove to be useful I may keep you at my side. Though I am sure you would be desperate to see Chris again. I am sure that his genetics are also superior. Perhaps he will survive? If he does, he will be far from human."  
_

_A gut-wrenching cry was torn from her throat as she fought violently against her restraints, her free arm thrashing about in a desperate attempt to find a weapon. Wesker's cackling laugh fuelled her anger and she lashed out at him, succeeding in dislodging his firearm from its holster. It clattered across the floor, coming to rest next to her left foot._

_"Don't even think about it!" he shouted, but it was to no avail. Jill's knees collided painfully with the cold tiles, the arm that remained bound twisting violently as it pulled against its bindings. Her fingers came to rest comfortably on the gun, relishing the feel of the cold metal against her skin and of the power that seemed to course through her veins._

_"You son of a bitch, you can't do this!" she cried, thrusting the gun forward and training her sight on his forehead. As she rose to her feet the pain in her bound arm intensified as it was pulled downwards, but she continued to stand tall with a scowl upon her face. Much to her surprise and disappointment, Wesker did not react and remained as calm and composed as ever._

_'If freefalling down the face of a cliff didn't kill him, a single bullet hardly will,' she thought. Still, it was her only option and she knew that she could not allow him to go through with his plans. Umbrella's mistakes had always been confined; this was intentional and _global_. 'But I'm just one person...'_

_"You don't even know if Uroboros works!" she taunted. "I've seen the data; thirty subjects and every single one of them was rejected. You're not aiding evolution, you're commiting genocide!"_

_"Uroboros works," he stated calmly. "Though it would not be such a great loss if it was a failure. One way or another, humanity will be extinct. Just remember your part in all of this. Even now I am creating a stockpile of the antibodies found in your blood. If I need to perfect the virus, I have the means."_

_Jill's entire body trembled and she found it increasingly difficult to keep her stolen weapon trained on his forehead. Her entire life had been dedicated to the eradication of bioweapons and viral technology. The fact that she had been turned into an almost perfect B.O.W. was painful enough but to know that she had contributed to the production of a virus that had the potential to wipe humanity from the face of the earth? She could already feel her heart freezing over, realising that she had become the embodiment of everything she had been fighting for the eight years prior to her capture. The thought was not funny, not to her._

_"Would you really shoot me, Jill?" he asked with a smirk, confident that he knew the answer to his question._

_'He used me to create this virus,' she thought. 'He has used me to kill others. God knows what else he could use me for...'_

_"No," she admitted in a small, trembling voice. Her arm retracted, fingers remaining tightly wound around the handle of the gun. She did not recoil as she pressed the barrel of the weapon against her temple, closing her eyes to enjoy the promises that it seemed to whisper to her. Freedom, hope, peace...she would be cutting Wesker off at the source. She knew that her reasoning was not selfish, but she could not handle the thought of being used for a purpose she despised so much. If Wesker wanted a slave, he could look elsewhere._

_"I won't be your puppet anymore," she snarled, not having to think twice before she squeezed the trigger, bracing herself for the sharp pain that she knew would follow._

Click.

_Jill's eyes opened wide at the dreadful sound that rang in her ears. Her finger continued to move, squeezing the trigger again and again. There was no pain, no blood, no sweet release. Before she knew it a tremendous force collided with her chest and she fell back into the uncomfortable steel chair as the gun was wrenched from her hand._

_"Do you honestly think that I am that stupid?" Wesker asked, his nose mere inches from hers, a cold hand around her throat. "You are far too valuable to me alive but you truly are testing my patience. I only hope I can resist the urge to tear you apart long enough for Chris to find us so I can gut you while he watches."_

_"If I am more trouble than I'm worth then why not just kill me already?" she demanded, shrinking back inside her shell. Wesker released her and groaned impatienly._

_"Do not think for one moment that I place a value higher than convenience on your life," he informed her. "You and your dear partner have been thorns in my side for far too long. No punishment is creative enough so I am settling for the opportunities I have been given. Should the opportunity arise where I am in need of a test subject for a virus you are not immune to, rest assured you will be first in line."_

Jill's heart beat furiously in her chest as she regained her composure and loosened her vice-like grip on the toilet bowl.

'What if- What if he found something?'

A thousand possibilities suddenly became startlingly real. She would not have put it past her sadistic former captain to leave her a little parting gift. He was no stranger to cruelty and knew that he would not pass up the opportunity to create more misery for herself and Chris.

"Chris..."

Her hands slipped against the cool porcelein and her ass hit the floor with an audible thud, the mat beneath her feet sliding away from her.

A sudden twitch in her stomach threatened to interrupt her thoughts but they were already so deep-set that they were impossible to ignore. She had witnessed her husband's relief that morning, she had seen the genuine smile he had worn when she did not attempt to avoid his kiss. The day she came clean she swore to herself that she would involve Chris as much as she felt capable of...but this was too much.

'I'm so confused,' she thought, raising her hands to her hair. The pain of Chris's sacrifices hit her with tremendous force. What if it was all for nothing? What if her psychological trauma was simply masking an underlying biological defect? Images were conjured up in her head and she could see a future that seemed so real to her at that moment; if she truly was ill, Chris would give up what little he had left to help her. The thought was sweet and somehow romantic but it terrified her. She loved him too much to watch him waste away because of her.

Silently, she cursed her husband's kind heart. There was no reasoning with him in matters of the heart. He did not possess much common sense where she was concerned and she knew for a fact that he would work himself into a coma if faced with the responsibility of babysitting her full-time. Flickers of the old Jill Valentine resurfaced as her pride told her that she did not want or need a man to watch over her. However, her tormented mind begged to differ and insisted that she was not strong enough to pull through this alone.

'So many have suffered because of me. I never wanted to hurt him, not like this.'

Her mind was set, the agony of her decision weighing on her heart in a way that made a fresh wave of nausea pass through her. The speed and ease with which she reached said decision surprised her before it occured to her that the reality of what it entailed had not yet sunk in and probably would not until it was too late to turn back.

With tears in her eyes she rose to her feet, paying no attention to the world that spun around her.

* * *

Chris did not think that he would find so much pleasure in a simple act. Yet as the paper slid fluidly into the plastic folder he could not help but smile. These were recruits that he had hand picked himself; it was a personal touch to a task he already enjoyed. It only seemed such a shame that the added responsibilty was handed to him when he did not have the time to deal with it. As he remembered the woman he had left at home the pleasure seemed to fade and he reached for the next form with haste, knowing that he had already been gone too long.

The large clock that hung above his head ran silently, giving the time as just after midday. Time was irrelevant but every second of it that he spent away from Jill worried him. In some way he felt as though he were a father desperate not to miss his child's first steps. Instead he was a man borderlining on obsession, wanting to be there at the moment his wife chose to open up completely. Then of course there was her health...

He would be lying if he claimed that her sudden illness did not bother him; it bothered him deeply. So much had been achieved following her sudden confession following their first appointment with the marriage counsellor, and was afraid that something might send her spiralling back into the dark abyss they had been struggling to pull her out of.

They had been married for just over two months and Chris assumed that they would be settling into family life by now, trying for a child. Instead they found themselves tiptoeing around each other. He so desperately wanted a child with her, but he knew that her health and her sanity came before all that and he would gladly forsake a family if it meant that she could regain her strength.

For a fleeting moment an interesting thought crossed his mind and he mused about her current condition. The thought was dismissed within seconds and he laughed softly at his sudden assumption.

'Who am I kidding?' he thought. 'She has been moaning about PMS all the time lately.'

Despite the fact that a child seemed a million miles away from where they were, he could not help but to entertain the thought of what a child of theirs would look like. Would they have her beautiful eyes? His messy brown hair? Would they smile the way she does? Would they have her laugh?

His concentration lapsed momentarily as his mind drifted back to the woman he loved and the stack of papers that had been neatly piled on his desk slid to the floor.

"Shit," he swore as he reached down, grateful that the identification pictures remained paperclipped to the entry forms. Several of the new recruits were possibilities for the training schedule his colleagues were attempting to get him to take over but he had yet to put names to faces.

Half way through the scattered papers a rattling buzz caught his attention and he reached for his cell phone, catching it as it teetered precariously on the edge of his desk.

"Chris Redfield," he answered as he carefully balanced the small metal device between his shoulder and ear. It proved to be a pointless endeavor as the phone clattered to the floor as a slew of obscenities deafened him.

After a quick fumble, he held the phone tightly to his ear and mumbled a quick "who is this?" into the receiver.

"You know damn well who this is!" the voice growled back at him. "You better start explaining yourself Redfield; what the fuck is going on?"

"Dad?" he asked incredulously, suddenly recognising the gravelly tones of Dick Valentine's voice.

Chris had known Jill's father for years, having bedgrudgingly allowed her to pull him into the visiting room one day when he dropped her off at the prison he was serving time in. He just happened to be visiting relatives in the same state and offered his partner a ride, how was he to know that she would suddenly develop the urge to show him off to her convict father? The very idea of his situation had admittedly put Chris off ever meeting him, despite his increasing closeness to and fondness of the man's daughter. He was twenty-four years old at the time and a cop; even at that age he knew that cops and cons did not mix. However, he had immediately taken to Dick, so much that he found himself visiting several times without Jill in tow. He respected the way that Dick had raised Jill and the ideas that he had nurtured. Dick never wanted his daughter to end up in his position and was almost breaking his back trying to push her into making a name for herself and setting off on a respectable career path. Needless to say, when the time came for Chris to inform this man of his daughter's death he was somewhat hesitant. Dick had understandably been devastated but to Chris's surprise he seemed more concerned about the younger man. Jill had never told her father of her relationship with Chris, fearing that he would react the way he had upon meeting her ex-boyfriends, but Dick was not stupid and could see that there had always been something more than a mere partnership between them. They had spoken regularly during the two years she was gone and the ex-con was lucky enough to secure an early release on account of good behaviour two months before their wedding.

So it came as somewhat of a shock to Chris to hear such choice words used against him.

"W-what happened?" he stuttered, failing to produce a reason for his father in law's anger. "Explain what?"

Dick let out an annoyed sigh.

"You can start by explaining why my daughter just called me in tears," he seethed. "Then you can finish by telling me what the hell you have said to her."

His explanation did very little to nullify Chris's curiosity. Jill? His heart suddenly filled with worry, his lungs seeming to contract rapidly. It no longer bothered him that Dick seemed to hold him responsible for an act he knew nothing about; his thoughts were with his wife and nowhere else.

"Jill...she- she was crying?" he gasped, pulling himself into his chair. "Is she okay? What did she say?"

A momentary silence lingered between the two.

"Don't insult me, boy," Dick pressed, convinced that Chris knew more than he was letting on. His daughter's tearful plea had left him reeling and as far as he knew, someone had hurt her and he was determined to make that someone pay. "She kept talking nonsense about how she'd hurt you, that you deserved better than her. Said you wouldn't listen to her. I know my daughter, she would never say anything like that."

Chris's hand shook as he raised it to his forehead and tried to still the trembling that had started to spread throughout his body. His skin seemed to burn, each breath he drew shallow and pointless.

'I never should have left.' Unjustified guilt filled him and suddenly he didn't give a shit about the papers that lay at his feet or the faces that they represented.

"Oh God," he gasped. He had not wanted to be the one to break news of her suffering to her father. In fact, he had been hoping upon hope that they would have no need to notify him.

"I swear I didn't do anything," he assured the worried man. "Jill has been...she's been really upset lately. You don't- you don't go through what she did and come out in one piece. She's a strong woman but even she... I've been trying to help her but I can't seem to get her to open up completely. I never should have left her alone, I'm sorry. Is she okay? Please..."

"I don't know," Dick sighed, placated a little by Chris's fear. "Are you telling the truth?"

Chris reluctantly informed him that he was. His body seemed unable to relax and every muscle tensed up until he could not twist himself into a comfortable position. As thoughtless as it sounded, he simply wanted Dick to get to the point and tell him what Jill had said. Had she finally opened up? He doubted it, but it was a small ray of hope that he was determined to cling to.

"Damn." Dick's temper seemed to have completely subsided as he took in the harsh reality that Chris had presented him with. "She sounded...Chris, I've never heard her so torn up, not even after her mother passed away. She seemed convinced that she was hurting you. She was wrong, wasn't she?"

"No, she's not hurting me," he insisted, though he knew that it was only half true. "I'm just so worried about her. Did she...did she say anything to you?"

His voice was hopeful and Dick sighed once again, confused over the matter.

"Just how she was holding you back," he told Chris. "Look, if things are this bad then why the hell aren't you with her?"

"She practically kicked me out of the house. Damn it. You couldn't look in on her, could you? She would only get angry if I brought my work home with me."

The line went silent for a few moments before a deep breath could be heard rattling through the line.

"Chris, you've got to get back there," Dick muttered, obviously worried. "Talk to her. I'm still not sure whether or not I believe you but something is bothering her. She...well, she asked if she could stay with me for a little while. She sounded so torn up, I couldn't say no. I know that you have a better chance of helping her through this than I do. She said she was going to pack up her things and come round mine after some appointment she has this afternoon."

Dick continued to speak but Chris tuned out his words, his blood running cold.

'She wouldn't...'

He knew more than anyone that anything was possible in her current state of mind. The progress she had made seemed little more than an illusion at that point. His feelings on the matter were clouded. Somehow 'despair' didn't quite cut it.

The papers were left on the floor, the chair flung hazardously behind him as he moved quickly out of the room. Dick wished him good luck before the line went dead and his cell phone was shoved into one of his jean pockets. Faces flashed by him but he made no attempts to recognize them, nor to reply to the many greetings that were sent his way. To him these people were obstacles and he did not care if he shoved them too hard or insulted them with his ignorance.

'I can't lose her,' he thought as he sprinted towards his car, keys in his hand before he had even left the building. He was reminded of his threat of divorce several weeks ago and of the pain that had pierced his heart when he thought he had been left with no option. He had been selfish, thinking only of his own sanity and not hers. Watching her fall apart was painful but he could not sleep at night knowing that she was suffering and he wasn't doing a damn thing to help ease her pain. It was not his conscience that drove him to help her, it was the heart that bled every time she felt pain. He loved her and it was obvious to him now that he would be nothing without her. Truth be told, he needed her as much as she needed him right now.

The journey home seemed to take an eternity and every minute that passed seemed to drive home the fact that Jill might not even be there when he arrived.

_He was numb to the core, every breath reluctant and seemingly pointless. Even breathing seemed worthless without her._

Chris shook his head, curling his upper lip slightly as he fought off the bitter memory of that fateful day. Many times he had wondered what life without her would be like, whether or not he would be strong enough to carry on. Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer agony of the real thing. She had been stolen from him and it had hurt like hell...now she was walking away. Knowing that she was still out there, suffering alone, would tear him apart and he knew it. He could not simply walk away when he knew that someone was in pain; it just wasn't in his nature. Add to that the love his felt for his wife and you were left with a man who was frantically pushing the speed limit, watching his suburban house looming nearer and nearer until the car finally came to rest at the bottom of their driveway.

By the time he stumbled over the threshold, carefully closing the front door behind him, his heart was beating in his throat. Words were out of the question so he took a moment to catch his breath and sigure out what the hell he could posisbly say to her to make her stay. Jill could be too stubborn for her own good sometimes.

A gentle cough drifted down the stairs and his heart seemed to descend back into his chest. His footsteps were slow and he swallowed deeply and he walked towards the source of the brief noise. As he drew ever nearer to their bedroom door, gentle sniffles could be heard and he quickened his pace, wanting to make sure that she was nowhere but in his arms.

"Jill!" he announced, his voice breaking mid-word. Her blonde hair whipped against her neck as she spun around, the socks she had held in her hand falling gently to the floor.

"Chris!" she gasped, her chest heaving as her breathing became more and more frantic. "You- You're back early."

She made a quick attempt to move away from him but he was faster and gently yet forcefully grabbed her upper arms. No matter how much she struggled, she could not break free.

"What are you doing?" he asked as calmly as he could, giving her the opportunity to explain the open suitcase on the bed and the clothes that were scattered around it. Jill's breathing hitched, a pathetic whimper drawn from her by his forceful words.

"I'm just...going to stay with my father for a few days," she answered, pleased with how genuine she had sounded. "I haven't seen him in a while, thought it was about time I paid him a visit."

"Don't bullshit me, Jill!" Chris growled, angry at himself for seeming so angry and riled up. "Your father called me, told me everything. You think you're holding me back?"

He saw her eyes soften and her moist lips part ever so slightly. The torment that was reflected in her eyes hacked at his heartstrings like a dull blade and he found his hands moving to her cheeks, cradling her face gently.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

The voice that dripped with pain and regret washed over him and suddenly every nerve ending in his body seemed numb, the only conscious feeling the heat beneath the palms of his hands. It hit him that she actually believed the insane thought she had voiced to her father.

"Jill..." he began, words failing him once again. "You're not holding me back from anything."

The first tear escaped, her eyelids swooping down in a vain attempt to catch it as it rolled down her cheek and onto his thumb. She seemed unable to express the emotion that was causing her to visibly shake and instead she chose to attempt to turn her head away from him.

Chris watched as she nervously bit her bottom lip and choked back a sob. Something seemed to draw his lips to hers and before he knew it his tongue was gently probing, slipping past her lips with ease. Her pink lips were moist and parted willingly against his. At first she seemed hesitant but it took little encouragement to send her hands to his back, clawing at his T-shirt with a frantic desperation that spurred him on further. He could feel blood rushing to various parts of his body, the heat from hers doing little to discourage it. It was heavenly, and he did not need to _try_ to convey how much he loved her, now much he _needed_ her.

Suddenly, her hands appeared on his shoulders and pushed him away harshly.

"Don't," she threatened, taking several steps back to increase the distance between them. "Just don't."

Her internal conflict manifested itself visually as she once again began to shake, her hands flying to her face to hide her expression.

"You're not supposed to be here," she muttered. "I was going to leave you a note-"

"A _note_?"

"Damn it, Chris, I knew you would react like this!" she cried desperately. "I need to get away from here...away from you."

Chris's heart sank fast, a flash of pain shooting through its core. He knew that she did not mean her words, not in the way he had heard, but it did not lessen their sting.

"I-I didn't mean it like that," she gasped with her slender fingers pressed to her parted lips. He knew this before she spoke but clung on to the pain, knowing that it was all that could drive him to do what must be done.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "We were making progress, you were opening up! Now you're willing to throw all that away? Throw what we have away?"

Her expression softened and Chris was thrown aback. He had half expected her to attack him verbally, to make him not give a damn that she was walking out. It seemed to him that she did not want him to think that she hated him. There was an almost quiet desperation in her body language, as though she were desperate to run towards him but something was holding her back. His mind was drawn back to the times before she had admitted her problem and he could recall her unresponsiveness and reluctance to so much as touch him. The night before had been so different; unresponsive was not a word he would have used to describe her actions.

"Is this- Is this about last night?" he asked.

"No, no it's not." Jill fell down onto the edge of the bed, head buried in her hands. Her soft blonde hair fell forward and hid her hands from his eyes. "Chris, I can't stay. Look at you, you're exhausted! I know I promised that I would let you help me, but this isn't what I wanted. I don't want you to give up your friends or your work. I just want you to be happy and lately...lately I've noticed that it's just not possible with me around. I can't watch you hurt when I can walk away and-"

"How the hell do you think I feel?" he roared as he rushed forward and placed his hands roughly on each of her cheeks as she jumped to her feet in surprise. "Do you think I enjoy watching you tear yourself apart? I've given you everything I have, Jill, I'm trying to help you but I can't do a damn thing if you walk out of here. I don't care what I have to give up because the only thing in this world I give a damn about right now is _you_. I love you! When are you going to realise that? I'm not giving you up without a fight."

Her hands reached up and rested on his as she laughed bitterly. The tears were flowing freely at this point and she had given up all hope of closing the dam.

"Chris, the BSAA called," she whispered. "They picked up on something in my blood sample. I- I don't know what it is yet; I have an appointment at two, but... It's just the kind of stunt Wesker would pull. If I am infected...Oh God, I don't want to put you through that."

Chris allowed his hands to fall from her face, coming to rest on her hips as he pulled her towards him in a loving embrace. She lost herself in his arms, greedily savouring his affection. This offered him little hope but it was a start. He tried to ignore his friend's words as he processed this new information.

"Our vows were more than words," he reminded her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo that still lingered on her hair. "It's probably nothing, but if there _is_ something wrong, you will need me more than you do now. Please, don't do this alone."

Jill's feet moved silently against the carpet as he pulled her over to the bed, lowering her down into a seated position.

"Now come on," he spoke as he pushed her tear-stained hair back. "I'll drive you to HQ, we'll get your results and then we'll figure out what we're going to do. There's no point in getting upset and over-reacting until we know what we're dealing with."

"This isn't over," she promised. "We still need to talk and I'm not promising that I will stay."

Chris swallowed his fear and reluctantly agreed with her. It pained him to know that he had driven her this far; he should have handled his work more smoothly, been honest with her from the start. He had no time to feel guilt, the only thought on his mind pertaining to his wife's medical results and what they would mean for her...for _them._

* * *

She had never dried her tears so quickly and had amazed even herself with the speed she had harnessed when making herself up for her journey to headquarters. The BSAA headquarters were in the centre of town and comprised of several large buildings. It was a formal front to the organisation and mainly dealt with administration, basic training, recruitment, intelligence and also boasted sophisticated medical facilities. It was the latter department that the Redfields found themselves heading for, neither of them speaking a word until they reached the front desk.

Chris was the one who spoke, Jill remaining silent and shaking beside him. She could feel a large, warm hand resting encouragingly on the small of her back but it did little to reassure her. BSAA policy dictated that medical results must be obtained only by the person they pertained to and nobody else. By extraction, this rule meant that she would have to receive the news herself while Chris waited anxiously outside. The thought was almost enough to make her puke. It felt as though she were walking the last mile.

"It will be okay," she heard his voice whisper in her ear. She relished the warm breath that brushed against her skin but little else. Every small method of contact was appreciated, so much so that she found herself leaning into him once they had taken their places on the foam chairs that were scattered around the small waiting area.

The contents of her stomach began to churn but this time the feeling was not accompanied by the awful feeling of nausea. It was hard for her not to dwell on her physical symptoms and as would be expected she jumped to a dozen conclusions, none of which helped to calm her down.

It was the fingers that stealthily slid around her hand that perked her up. A thumb carefully brushed over the back of her hand, passing over her wedding ring several times. It was a beautiful ring and she would admit that she was amazed when it turned out he had selected it on his own, without any help from any of their female friends. The diamond that rested in the ring was a perfect size; it was noticable but would not blind passers-by when the sun caught it. It seemed as though he just happened to _know_ what she wanted, what she _needed_.

'He would help you,' a voice told her. 'You know you can't do this alone and he is the only person who can help you.'

Once again, she did not know whether or not to listen to the voice, knowing that it spoke sense but at the same time too afraid to believe it.

"Jill Redfield?" A friendly voice snapped her from her reverie and she looked up into the eyes of Holly Parker, clad in black dress pants and a white lab coat over a deep crimson blouse.

The fingers around her hand aqueezed gently and she moved away from Chris with a worried glance back at him. She repeated his words over and over in her head, assuring herself that it would be alright, that nothing was wrong with her.

The door to the private consultation room swung shut behind her with an ominous thud. A pleasant chill swept around the room, raising the hairs on her arms.

"Please, take a seat," Holly signalled to a plastic chair on one side of a wooden table. As Jill lowered herself into it she searched Holly's youthful features for some sort of signal but her dark eyes remained as secretive as ever, the deep brunette hair that fell from a loose pony tail hiding most of her face when she leaned forward.

'Her hair is the same colour mine used to be,' Jill thought, mourning her natural colour for what must have been the millionth time.

"Okay, Jill," Holly began

as she opened a folder with 'Jill Redfield' printed on the front and began to flick through the papers inside. "First of all I should tell you that fitness tests came back perfect and your physical examination produced no questionable results. I will ask you again: has your medical situation changed since we last saw you? Perhaps you have visited your family doctor?"

"No," Jill replied, her voice trembling with fearful anticipation. "I mean, Chris has been bugging me to see someone about my exhaustion and nausea but I don't see any point."

Holly looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Constantly tired?" she asked. "Vomiting? Dizziness? Minor lower back pains?"

Jill was surprised with how accurate her assumption was. It took her a few moments to collect herself and nod hastily. She was also amazed that Holly failed to notice the hands that trembled almost violently on the desk before them.

"When the blood sample we took was analysed, you will be glad to know that we found no evidence of a virus or parasite or anything that would be an immediate cause for concern for the BSAA," Holly continued.

Her words sank in slowly and Jill breathed deeply in relief. A huge burden seemed to lift from her shoulders and a small laugh escaped her, though Holly did not seem to notice.

'If it isn't a virus then what is it?' She shook away the lingering fear, clinging on to the good news with all her might. What ever it was, it couldn't be bad. Right? Holly turned a page in the folder and cleared her throat before she spoke once more.

"However, they did find something that could not be identified on initial analysis because...well, to be honest we don't usually look for it. After a second analysis an intriguing amount of human chorionic gonadotropin, or hCG, was found."

These words meant nothing to the former agent. What she knew of medical terms could fill a post-it note.

"W-What's that?" she asked carefully, not liking the sound of it. Anything that started with 'human' was bad in her experience.

Holly smiled at her again, reaching over to hold her hand gently. It occured to Jill that it was a somewhat unprofessional move but she also registered concern in the nurse's eyes and knew that it was a simple was of telling her that it was nothing serious.

"It is more commonly known outside of the medical profession as the 'pregnancy hormone'," Holly explained, her smiled widening. "Congratulations, Jill, you're pregnant. From the levels of hCG in your blood I'd say you were a few months along."

A strange buzzing noise filled Jill's ears, the room seeming to dissolve into nothing around her.

'Pregnant? That's- That's impossible!'

"But, I've been menstruating! I- Oh..." Her protests were cut short as she realised that she had been suffering mild PMS for the past few months but had not actually had a period. She had been so caught up in her thoughts and in her marriage that she failed to register this before.

Suddenly, she felt very stupid. Overpowering this crippling sense of embarassment, however, was a feeling of joy so pure and unadulterated that it threatened to tear her apart from the inside. It was happiness so intense it almost made her forget where she was, forget that she was not alone in the room.

"Jill?" Holly's voice brought her gently back to reality but it could not kill her euphoria. Holly smiled and reached for a tissue as tears began to drip from Jill's eyelashes, only furthering her embarassment.

"I'm sorry," she laughed through her tears, greatefully taking the tissue and dabbing at her eyes with it.

"I can't provide you with any professional advice, but I do advise that you see your family doctor as soon as possible so you can be booked in for an ultrasound and get off on the right track," Holly spoke in a professional tone which broke the mood slightly. Still, Jill seemed to be lost in her own little world, still cursing her stupidity. How the hell did she not notice that she was pregnant? It seemed so obvious now.

"Do you have any questions?" Holly asked, to which Jill shook her head. "Alright, then we are done. I will pass on your results to the appropriate people and you should be able to start work at the beginning of next week."

Jill thanked her again, accepting another tissue with a gleeful laugh. She was giddy with delight and barely found her way to the door.

That was when it hit her...Chris.

She could recall his previous involvement in his work and the lack of attention he had paid to their plans for a family. What if he no longer wanted it? Would she just be adding fuel to the fire?

As the door swung open her expression hardened into one of worry and it did not fade even as Chris sprung to his feet and moved across the empty waiting room with alarming speed. When he came close enough to see the light reflecting off the wet tracks on her face he froze. Jill could almost see the plea in his eyes, as though he were praying to some higher force that she was alright. It touched her deeply, knowing that he feared for her and his earlier words and promise to not let go of her without a fight became more meaningful. It was not as she had previously assumed - something said in the heat of the moment to persuade her to stay. He had truly meant every word he had said.

"What did they say?" he asked, barely able to keep his composure. He held back his emotions for the sake of preserving his masculinity and adopted a stiff facial expression with pursed lips and narrow eyes.

She moved forwards, bracing herself against his muscular body with her arms. She wanted to get close, but not too close.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered simply, unable to think of a way to ease into the news.

Underneath her fingertips she could feel his muscles tense and his chest ceased it's rythmic movements.

"P-Pregnant?" he asked, watching her intently for some sign of laughter. "As in...pregnant?"

Jill nodded and tore her eyes away from his powerful gaze. She felt a fear-induced wave of nausea rise within her as he slowly digested the news. In her fragile state, she feared the worst, shaking before he could voice his opinion. She wanted a family with Chris more than anything and the simple thought of carrying his child made her happier than she had ever felt before. It seemed almost pathetic to her that she could fit so easily into the 'giddy romantic heroine' role but at that moment she did not care. All she wanted was for Chris to share in her happiness.

The breath that he had been holding was let out swiftly as he pulled her into him, holding her lithe body to his possessively.

"We're having a baby?" he whispered into her ear. She could hear a smile in his voice. "We're having a baby!"

She held him back just as tightly, thankful that he was taking the news well. His joy mingled with hers and before she knew what was happening, she was crying into his shoulder, begging him to forgive her.

Her recent ideas seemed so pathetic and weak to her now; there was no way in hell that she could leave him. The way he held her reinforced the idea that what they had was worth holding on to, at all costs. She knew that she had changed and it was not for the better, but despite all the stress that she brought to their marriage, she could still see the genuine happiness underneath it all and she knew that she would be crazy to give that up for the sake of a few tears and sleepless nights. Some things were worth fighting for.

Still, she could not persuade herself into accepting his recent habits.

"Chris," she spoke, having to push on him with moderate force to break free from his bone-crushing embrace. The smile that greeted her when her eyes found his handsome features melted her worry away, thrilling her that she could still make him so happy when she did not know the meaning of the word herself. "We need to talk."

"Of course we do," he gushed as he ran his hands from her waist up to her shoulders then back down again to rest on her hips.

"Not about me," she corrected, bracing herself for the disappointment that appeared in his eyes a moment later. "I-I know that I'm not being completely honest with you but...these things take time. We need to start slow, work up to the big stuff. I just need to know that when the time comes, you will be there to listen."

His hands moved to her arms, squeezing them lightly before he leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

"I will always be here," he insisted. "You know that."

Chris had spoken these words many times before, but she had created an emotional shield so hard that they had been unable to get through to her. This time, however, she truly and deeply appreciated the sentiment. It was like a breath of fresh air from a world she had painted so dark and hopeless. She knew that it made little difference in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough for now.

"I love you," she tried, wanting to spill as many emotions as she could before her walls were erected once more. "I know it doesn't seem like it most of the time, but I truly appreciate everything you are doing and I'm sorry that I dragged you into this. Just...don't let me hold you back. Please. I want you to go out more, don't stay trapped in the house with me. I will be fine on my own."

Chris opened his mouth to object but closed it almost immediately, sensing that she was trying to open up. He recognised that his way wasn't always the best was and perhaps she was right on this one. At least he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Two days," he offered, hoping to come to a deal. "I will come to work for two days a week. But you have to promise that you will call if you need me, don't sit and suffer in silence."

She scoffed at the use of the word 'suffer' but accepted his proposal.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I worry about you sometimes, too, you know? There is only so much that the human body can take before-"

Her eyes glazed over, phantom pains wracking her body as old memories resurfaced. The laugh that echoed in her ears tore at her sanity before a more loving voice chased it away.

"Jill!" Chris called with concern tainting his voice.

"I'm fine," she gasped.

Rather than press her for information, he pulled her close again and kissed the top of her head. She was grateful for the repreive and sank into his arms, noting how they enveloped her in what she found to be quite a sensual way.

Part of her wondered if he truly wanted to know the truth. She knew that he loved her beyond all reasoning and it was a feeling that she reciprocated with enthusiasm. Had he been the one who had been captured and subjected to experimentation and emotional torment it would have torn her apart. It could not have been easy for him, that much she accepted and it only made her respect him more. He did not know what he was getting himself into but he still threw himself into it wholeheartedly for her sake. It was the kind of love she had always dreamt about and it frustrated her that she was still too numb to fully appreciate it.

The numb feeling in her heart had begun to dissipate, the empty corners of her mind slowly filling with new memories and kind words. She had not expected such a level of raw pain to exist beneath, as though the numb sensation that had been troubling her was merely an emotional band aid for the true pain that lay beneath the surface.

"Come on," Chris hummed, moving back but keeping an arm around her. If there was one thing his touch told her it was that he would nurse those wounds and dress them with a feeling much more satisfying than numbness. It was enough to keep her holding on and this time she knew that it was for good. Aside from her love for him, she knew that it would not be about them soon.

"Let's go home."

**AN - Please review :).**


	9. Anything But Love

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **Another filler, but still a long chapter. My finals are over now but I am working full time for the next few weeks and probably won't be able to update for at least a fortnight. I'll keep writing but I don't want to put out something half-assed when I can wait and hopefully write something decent and I'm sure you would all prefer that too :). I hope I'm doing alright with pacing...I'm trying to get out everything I need without having lots of pointless chapters. Chapter title is from a song by Apocalyptica which I thought kind of went with Jill's 'relationship' with a certain character.

Again, thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review, I appreciate and read each and every one. So thank you **REFive2009, Devil Rebel, d-chan-67, Anonymous, janey's got a gun, Rugbyfan, Kira131, Sparkle Valentine, michellex, MsValentine, Ryoko Metallium, Ruby Halo, Stardust4, tiger snaps, Agent-G, tek, Raidenlover6, MarnaLouw89, Captain Fox McCloud, Kenshin13, xmenrocks,** **Keybladem** and **C. Redfield 86.** I apologise for not replying to some reviews but it's ridiculous how busy I have been lately.

_**Chapter Eight - **Anything But Love_

_"The darkest corners of my mind are yours. That's where you live, that's where you breathe."_

Jill impatiently tapped her foot against the low table before her. They had intentionally arrived ten minutes early but the wait was damn near killing her. Two damn weeks they had to wait before they were able to secure an appointment at the local hospital, yet somehow she did not think she was capable of waiting a few more minutes.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, causing Chris to place his hand over hers and smile at her as he masked his amusement.

Ever since her discovery he had been wandering around with a broad smile on his face and nothing seemed capable of bringing him down from the cloud he seemed to be perched on. The fussing and worrying became more annoying in the first few days, but once they had visited their doctor his worry dissipated and he was back to his ecstatic self. The doctor had been unable to pinpoint the exact stage in pregnancy she was at and had referred Jill to the hospital for an ultrasound scan, amongst other screening procedures.

A hand rested lazily on her abdomen, barely able to feel the slight bump. She remembered her doctor's words, how he had mentioned that her uterus had 'popped', which apparantly meant that it was likely that she was in her second trimester...or that she was having twins. Either one of these scenarios unnerved her. Fortunately twins did not run in her family or Chris's, but that still left the possibility of being a considerable way into a pregnancy she had not prepared herself for.

She tried not to dwell on these thoughts but they seemed to creep up on her at the most inappropriate moments. Everything seemed to have been working in overdrive for the last two weeks. It shocked even her when Chris's hand had slid down to her abdomen one night and he pointed out that her stomach was no longer perfectly flat.

Aside from the longing to see her unborn child for the first time, her desperation to ensure that her child was healthy boosted her impatience to almost unbearable levels.

"Jill Redfield?" She did not even bother to search for the source of the voice, leaping to her feet as soon as she heard her name.

A small, plump woman smiled at her from beyond the next row of chairs. Jill did not need the hand that gently pushed her to guide her into the examination room.

She was grateful for her husband's presence and deeply appreciated it, given his known hatred of hospitals. In the waiting room he told her that he did not mind antenatal units, finding them full of life as opposed to the death that prowled the hallways of the main hospital. He had also mentioned how he would brave anything for her and for their child. She could tell simply by observing his attitude towards her pregnancy that he would make an exceptional father.

"Please, lie down," the midwife instructed, signalling to a small cot surrounded by wires and equipment. "Now, I assume that your doctor explained this procedure to you?"

Jill confirmed this, remembering the long talk she had not paid much attention to.

"Fantastic," the midwife cheered quietly with a friendly smile. "How have you been feeling lately? Any startling changes in your physical wellbeing?"

"Not really," she recalled. "The morning sickness reached a peak about a week ago but it seems to be getting less frequent now."

"Uh-huh," the midwife noted absently, pressing down gently on her abdomen with strong fingers. Jill hitched her loose T-shirt up, holding it just below her bra with one hand while Chris held the other lovingly. "That is perfectly normal. The sickness may return later on in the pregnancy but we will just have to wait and see. You are showing a little but it is impossible to estimate how far along you are solely by the size of your bump. I've seen women as far along as nineteen weeks who have just started to show. Now this may feel a little uncomfortable."

'Nineteen weeks?' Jill swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and looked up at Chris, a worried expression creeping across her face. Her husband's eyes seemed vacant as he stared at the midwife for a few moments before looking down at her. A nervous smile attempted to reassure her but the butterflies in her stomach remained.

"Relax," he muttered, bringing his free up to stroke her hair. She jumped a little when a cool gel landed on her exposed abdomen and moments later a white device was lowered down onto the gel and began to move around. An impromptu giggle rose in her throat as she lost herself to the strange sensation, unable to decide if it was ticklish or just plain uncomfortable.

"Now, we should be able to see something- Oh, here we are," the midwife began to speak with a smile on her face.

A strange pulsating thud snapped Jill from her reverie and her first instinct was to look up at her husband. He paid no attention to her except to move his fingers over the back of the hand he held, an aura of pure bliss seeming to envelope him as he stared ahead. The pulsating hum continued as she turned towards the small monitor and suddenly Chris's delerium was given reason. At first she assumed that the lines of grey and white were merely a random pattern, something that would make sense to the nurse but not to her. But as she took in the image, analysing every line and movement, she noticed a shape in the middle of the fuzz.

"That's...that's..." She could not seem to find the words to express what she felt, able only to sport a smile that threatened to split her face in two. There was no doubt about it; that small, fragile shape was her child. The relief she felt when she saw only the one fetus was short-lived, however, when she took in the detail. Hands, feet, legs, arms, a nose; this was unlike the strange, tadpole-like shapes that she could remember from her high school biology text books. Cursing herself for being so biologically untrained for so many years, she began to panic, her breaths becoming rapid and shallow. Chris noticed her sudden change and squeezed her hand again, the fingers that rested in her hair beginning to move once more.

As the steady pulse filled her ears she suddenly found it hard to worry about _how _pregnant she was, maternal instincts suddenly rushing to the forefront of her mind. No sound had ever been so sweet to her ears.

"Heartbeat is strong," the midwife announced, smiling as she read a line of numbers that ran along the top of the screen. "This is good, heartbeats are often difficult to pick up before sixteen weeks. Fetal length is approximately three inches; that puts you at about thirteen weeks. It is still too early to identify the gender, but we should be able to tell in a later scan."

"Is it- Is everything alright?" Jill asked nervously, chewing on her bottom lip. She could feel Chris move closer to her, as though he were ready to comfort her should the answer not be what she was expecting.

"At this stage?" the midwife began, turning to smile at her before her attention returned to the monitor. "Yes, the fetus appears to be perfectly healthy and developing well. Still, you will need to come back for further scans and there are several tests that we can run to eliminate any worry over other matters. This is your first pregnancy, am I correct?"

Jill nodded uneasily, the pulsating heartbeat still throbbing in her head. She closed her eyes and tried to cling to it, reminding herself that her child was fine. Still, the heartbeat of her unborn child was something she had never expected to hear and it unnerved her in its own way. Her own steadily beating heart was filled with emotions she had never felt before, emotions she couldn't quite describe. It was these emotions that caused her mind to race, thinking of everything she had done over the past thirteen weeks and wondering if they could have harmed her precious child in any way.

"I will print a copy of the scan for you," the midwife offered as Jill continued to chew hard on her lip. "I will also put together some information for you and I suggest that you attend ante-natal classes, which we put on here at the clinic or if you know of anywhere else that you will feel more comfortable we can help you sign up for those. They really do help first-time mothers. It's often the nerves that get to expectant women and it does help to be surrounded by people who are going through the same experience."

Once again, Jill nodded as she processed this information. 'Classes?' Her eyes were glued to the barely-moving figure etched into the lines of the monitor screen.

"If you wish, I could also put you in contact with a nutritionist," the midwife continued. "Though your doctor seems to approve of your current diet so that shouldn't be too much of a problem. At thirty-four, you aren't quite what we would class as an 'older mother' but it may be wise for you to keep an extra close eye on your health and on your diet."

This time it was Chris's turn to take on a nervous disposition. Once quick glance up at him was all it took for Jill to understand the thoughts that were concerning him. He had told her about his intention to propose after their failed mission to apprehend Ozwell Spencer. Had it not been for her untimely sacrifice or the hell that followed it, they would likely have had a child long ago. She tugged on his hand, snapping him from his dreadful remeniscing and smiled in a reassuring manner she hoped told him that she did not blame him for anything. However late they had left it, they were having a child and that was all that mattered to her. She was reminded of Rebecca's wonder upon analysing a tissue sample of Jill's and discovering that the cryogenic tube she was placed in had temporarily slowed her cellular aging, making her physical age several months younger than her chronological age. Chris knew this also but she could see that it did not help.

It was then that a sickening realisation dawned on her.

"Chris," she whispered, her grip on his hand tightening almost painfully. The words that she felt desperate to utter seemed to stick in her throat and she was left gasping for air, the pulse that still echoed in her ears forcing the gravity of her situation to sink in with a painful thud.

The midwife failed to see her panic and rose to her feet, announcing that she would be back in a few moments with a copy of the scan and a syringe with which to take a blood sample.

Once they were alone, Chris turned sharply to face his wife.

"Jill, what's wrong?" he demanded as he held her shaking hand.

"Chris, I'm pregnant!" she gasped, as though he did not quite understand the situation.

"Well, yes," he replied with a quiet chuckle. "We're having a child, I thought that was obvious?"

Impatiently, she batted his hand away and wiped at the gel on her abdomen with a paper towel the midwife had handed her.

"There's something living inside of me," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Had it been under any other circumstance, Chris would have found the whole thing hilarious. Instead, he felt nothing but concern.

"Jill...are you alright?" he asked tentatively, sensing another mood swing.

His words bounced off her with little effect and she hunched over, hugging her knees to her chest. It was not the most dignified position but it was all she could do to prevent her minor tremors from seizing her entire body. It all seemed so absurd to her but still she could not chase away the dreadful feeling that had settled in her gut.

"I can't have a child," she told him through teary eyes. "Chris, I'm not ready, I don't know the first thing about childcare! I could- Oh God, I know that stress isn't good. There's hormones involved and...what if-"

"Don't!" Chris half-yelled, bringing his face close to hers. "Don't even start with 'what if's. Trust me, you are _not_ going to harm this child. At least you won't if you just relax. You know what will happen if you work yourself up about this. Please, just calm down."

Her blood boiled at the mere mention of calming down. Flashes of her previous life returned to her and they were soon joined by the recent memories of their fights, her temper tantrums and the crippling emotional pain that so often seized her. Even physically her body had changed, antibodies that were far from natural running through her veins.

_A burning fever, writhing and scratching so violently her flesh was almost torn from the bone. Somehow agony couldn't quite describe the raw discomfort. But it was not the pain that bothered her...it was the hunger. A craving so intense that she had to physically restrain herself from biting into her own arm. She was changing both inside out, she could _feel_ it. Even as she silently called out for release she could feel the skin around her open wound flaking away, the stench of blood causing her body to twitch in morbid desire._

The memories of her infection with the T-Virus lingered, clearer than they had been in years. Her body had been through so much, how could it possibly provide a fetus with all it needed to thrive?

"Chris, I-" she began with a sob.

"No!" he insisted. "I know what you are thinking and you're being silly. Everything that happened, it's all in the past. That was then, this is now. You know that you are healthy and our child will be healthy, too."

The energy to fight left her and she allowed him to hold her in a comforting manner. Deep inside she knew that he was right but she still could not shake her paranoia. A hand fell to her abdomen and she closed her eyes, allowing a sense of blissful joy to wash over her once again. She knew then and there that she could never allow any harm to come to her child but remained apprehensive, hoping and praying that her child did not pay for her mistakes.

"It's still-" she began, trying to phrase her less pressing concerns in an appropriate way. "I've...well, I've never so much as looked after a child. I wouldn't even know where to start."

As Chris pulled away she saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes. It was not clear to her exactly what it was but she touched his bicep in deep concern. Within seconds the flicker was no more and the smile that replaced his frown echoed those he had been wearing since her announcement a fortnight ago.

"I'm just going to cover everything here and now," he spoke quietly. "You are not going to harm this child, you have almost six months to prepare yourself for taking care of it and you are going to make a wonderful mother."

A soft kiss emphasised his reassurances and she greedily pressed for more, allowing his affection to chase away the lingering thoughts of unintentional harm. She counted herself lucky that this time it had not taken much to calm her down. Whether this was due to the progress they had been making or just plain exhaustion, she did not know. All she knew was that for now she was in the arms of someone who would fight to the bitter end for her and her child and that was enough to placate her.

"Babies smell, you know," she noted, raising an eyebrow as she leaned into his chest. "They're noisy, too. Then there's the mess they make and the tantrums they throw..."

Chris laughed heartily.

"I make a mess, I throw tantrums," he pointed out.

"Yeah, you smell sometimes, too," Jill laughed. "But in all honestly, do you think you could cope with a child at this stage? I'm not exactly a bundle of joy myself at the moment."

She watched desperately as Chris's smile faded and he mulled it over. He had kept to his promise of working for a few days a week and had even found time to go for a few drinks with his friends, but she could tell that he was still uncomfortable with leaving her alone. It made her try that much harder to talk herself into opening up more and she only worried that looking after a newborn baby would push him over the edge both mentally and physically.

"The fact that you are able to say that shows that you are a million miles away from the woman who fought me a couple of months ago," he spoke in a low voice, his eyes never once leaving hers. "You are willing to get better, and that in itself is a huge leap forward. We have just under six months before we have to worry about looking after any child so for now just concentrate on getting better. Now might be a good time to-"

"If you are going to suggest seeking professional help, forget it," she interjected, turning away from him stubbornly. "You know that's not going to happen."

She heard him sigh in defeat and knew that he wasn't trying to force her into anything but she still felt uneasy every time he brought it up. After her father's arrest her aunt and uncle had sent her to see a therapist to 'work through her issues' regarding her mother's death and her father's sudden absence. The idea appealed to her at first as she was aware of the pent-up anger and frustration within her and was desperate for some sort of release. Instead, the therapy sessions turned out to be hell, making her feel a thousand times worse than she had prior to attending them. The therapist was an incompetent joke and it was obvious that she was not listening to a word Jill said. There she was, opening her heart out to this woman when she was obviously more concerned about how much she was getting paid for listening to this whiny teenaged brat complain about how lost she felt without parental guidance. She hated the idea of therapy as much as Chris hated the idea of hospitals. The weekly counselling sessions that Chris still begged her to attend were more than she could handle but she kept quiet because she knew that it gave them an opportunity to be openly honest and have someone call them on their well-meaning lies. When Chris had suggested after their last appointment that they drop the sessions, confident that they were once again strong enough to cope on their own, she had been more grateful than words could express. The sessions had taught them a lot but ultimately they realised that the problem was not with them as a couple and they needed to focus on their individual problems.

Ironically enough, Jill believed that talking things through with each other and not with a doctor had helped them grow closer rather than push them apart. She still could not appreciate this closeness but looked forward to the day that she could and knew that this was one more reason for her to push harder towards recovery.

The midwife returned, breaking the silence that had fallen between them, and handed a small folder to Chris. He did not open it, knowing that the contents would only elicit another round of joyful tears from the woman beside him.

* * *

Chris was not used to driving alone, not after everything he had been through with Jill in the last few weeks. It felt strangely unnatural when he would casually glance over at the passenger seat only to see a pair of old sunglasses and a beaten-up roadmap in the place of the woman he hated to leave behind. He found it hard to feel the usual guilt that followed him out of the house in her stead when he remembered the genuinely ecstatic expression she had worn when he casually announced that he was "going to see Barry". He had offered her to join him but she had politely declined before curling up on the sofa with the many pregnancy books he had forced her to buy on the journey home from the hospital.

Her nerves had returned once they had left the clinic, her arm slightly bruised from the needle that had pierced her skin. It worried her that she knew how to service more firearms than she cared to remember but did not know how to change a diaper or even how to hold a baby correctly. Chris did not know the answer to her questions himself but made it a point to stop by the bookstore on the way home and press a copy of every maternity book he could find into her arms, as well as purchasing several paternity books to help ease his increasingly troubled mind. He did not know what good literature would do but he was afraid of her snapping under the pressure and retreating back into her healing mind. It was also the only way that he could prepare _himself_ for the impending arrival of their child.

The truth was that despite the fact that he would soon be a father had sunk in within days of the announcement, he failed to take into account just what being a father entailed. He had promised to himself to take it all in stride and not work himself into a panic over it, but Jill's sudden outburst unnerved him and her panic seemed to have rubbed off on him. Even as he flicked through a copy of 'A Guide To Pregnancy For The Other Half' he found himself feeling completely lost.

This was why he found himself driving towards the only man he knew could help him, the best father he knew...Barry Burton.

Fortunately Jill had given him permission to divulge her condition to his friend in the form of a request to tell their old friend. They had both sworn to each other not to tell anyone of her condition until she reached her second trimester and knew that there were no causes for concern. How were they to know that she was touching on her second trimester when she found out that she was expecting?

Chris knew that the others would still probably not find out for some time. With Claire pushing six months, her and Leon were too busy to visit now that they had to balance working on a nursery with their careers. Rebecca had recently been commissioned by the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium to work on a book pertaining to Umbrella's engineered viruses and from what he had heard she had been spending what little spare time she had with a new boyfriend. Carlos, who had joined the BSAA after it's official sanctioning, was out of the country, leaving Barry the only close friend remaining. Contact with Sheva had been sporadic at best over the past year with her continuing rise in rank meaning that her workload became almost unbearable. Chris knew the pressure all too well and did not envy the weight she would have to carry, but she was a strong girl and he knew that she could handle herself.

On top of all this, Chris had admittedly not made a concious effort to visit his friends, being too caught up in helping Jill. They still talked over the phone but had not been given the opportunity to simply hang out in weeks. It saddened him but he knew that they all had their own lives now and their priorities had changed.

Fortunately when he pulled up to the Burton family's detached house, Barry's van was visible in the driveway.

Following Umbrella's downfall the S.T.A.R.S. survivors had chosen different paths to follow; Rebecca had chosen to follow her original dream of a career in the medical field, Chris and Jill had continued the fight and Barry had chosen to bring forward his 'retirement' plan of opening his own gun shop. Burton's Weaponry had flourished in its six years of business, mainly due to the name its owner had forged for himself. His custom weaponry had come to be a favourite of many BSAA agents, Chris and Jill included. He had confessed to the couple, who had approached him with the offer of joining them in the BSAA, that he had seen enough horrors to last a lifetime and while he wanted Wesker to pay for using his family against him, he realised that he had spent too much time away from them already. His girls were growing up fast and he did not want to miss any more than he already had. Understandably, they were saddened by the loss of a great teammate but they understood his reasoning. For them it was another story; Barry had lived a normal life prior to the incident that shook up their lives...all they knew was fighting. Chris had joined the Air Force at the age of eighteen, Jill applying for the US Army at the same age and being enlisted into the Delta Force training program soon after. They had no family, no dreams, no plan beyond making Wesker pay for what he had done. In a way they envied his ability to fall back into a normal life.

It was this knowledge of the importance of family that drove Chris to pay Burton a visit.

A short scuffle and minor curses answered his sharp knock at the front door and a few seconds later Barry's beared face appeared round the side of the door.

"Ah, Chris," he greeted before pulling the door further open. When he moved aside, Chris could see the cause of his unseen struggle; an overturned suitcase bearing an almost sickeningly girly floral pattern.

"Sorry about this," Barry apologised as he stood the suitcase up and moved several more bags out of the way. "Moira's back from college for the week. I think she brought the whole dorm home with her."

Chris chuckled lightly and slapped his friend on the back in greeting.

"It's been too long," he admitted with a grin, a gesture which Barry reciprocated.

"Damn right," he agreed. "So, how are things? You doing alright?"

"Yeah, not so bad," Chris answered as he followed his friend through to the living room. Several pairs of small, feminine shoes rested beside the long couch and a plain white cardigan hung loosely over the arm. It was a simple touch but it conveyed the family atmosphere that one would feel upon wakling through the front door in a more physical manner. Chris couldn't help but feel old as he noted that the shoes that obviously belonged to Barry's eldest daughter were similar to what Jill or Claire would wear. He could still remember when Moira was small enough to fit on his knee, when her only interests were dolls and pop music. How long would it be until he was looking at his own child and thinking the same thoughts?

"And Jill?" Barry continued. Chris joined him on the sofa, gladly accepting the beer that was tossed his way.

Barry often called with the hope of speaking to Jill but she was very often either asleep or in no fit state to talk to anyone when the phone rang. Chris did not like wrapping her in cotton wool, so to speak, but removing all that would impede her recovery was all he felt able to do.

"She's better," he admitted before taking a long swig of beer, the cool liquid soothing his throat as well as his nerves. "She still won't admit exactly what's bothering her, but at least she's willing to let me in a little now."

"You still seeing the counsellor?"

"No, gave up after last week." He stared at the bottle in his hand, running his fingers over its damp surface as he thought of their last session. "To be honest, it's got to the point where he couldn't possibly contribute anything. We're solid, I know that now, we just... I think we need to concentrate on her now."

Barry smiled at him and Chris felt genuinely grateful that he was silently offering to listen. He would trust no other with his problems.

"Is she working now?" Barry asked. "Surely the BSAA are done with her results now?"

Chris thought for a moment, rearranging the words in his mind before he spoke. He was not too happy with Jill's decision regarding work but had promised both himself and her that he would trust her to make her own decisions.

"Yeah," he sighed. "She started on Monday, just paperwork and briefings, stuff like that. They want her to submit a psych profile before they will let her near the training circuit but she is still refusing to see anyone."

His attempts at trying to persuade her to seek professional help had essentially been dropped. It wasn't that he didn't want her to see anyone, but he knew that he could not force her into it and the look of pure desperation he could see in her eyes every time he brought it up was enough to make him back off. Like him, she had never been too happy to attend their psych evaluations when part of the S.T.A.R.S. team but this time it seemed different...perhaps it was because she knew that she had something to share? She had briefly mentioned attending therapy when she was a teenager and it was obvious that it was not a pleasant experience for her.

"It probably works out better this way," he theorised. "Paperwork is boring as hell but it doesn't take as much out of you. I doubt they would let her train in her condition, anyway."

Barry nodded knowingly.

"You think the stress would get to her?"

"Uh..." A laugh betrayed Chris's serious demeanor and Barry rasied his eyebrows questioningly.

"To be honest, this is the reason I came," he continued, unable to look the other man in the eyes. "A couple of weeks ago we found out that...well, we're pregnant. Thirteen weeks to be exact."

A heavy silence hung between them, Barry's face frozen in the same expression he had worn before Chris's little admission. Several long seconds passed before his expression relaxed and he leaned back into the armchair, a smile and laugh breaking the awkward emptiness a moment later.

"Wow," was all he could say, his aging features expressing what words could not. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Chris said with a grin of his own. It was a reaction he was unable to control, one that made an appearance every time something reminded him of the bundle of mischief that his wife was working on. It was stupid how happy such trivial things could make him giddy with joy and he dreaded the day they finaly welcomed their child into the world, knowing that he would probably be a gibbering mess of happiness on the hospital floor. He prided himself on his masculinity and knew that what was left of it would be stripped that day. Despite this, he found it hard _not_ to anticipate the birth with an almost childlike eagerness.

After everything he had been through it seemed surreal that such a happiness could exist.

"It's great news, it really is, but..." He twisted his face during the momentary pause and Barry moved closer to the edge of his chair in concern. "Barry, I don't know anything about raising kids. Jill has been panicking and...well, I guess a bit of it rubbed off on me. I just need you to tell me that I'm being stupid and that there is nothing to worry about."

Barry seemed amused at his outburst and drained the remainder of his beer before answering.

"You're not being stupid," he told him, aware that it was not what Chris had wanted to hear. "Raising a child is the most difficult job you will ever have...but it is also the most rewarding. Looking back on when Moira and Polly were younger, I can't believe how much work I put into making sure that they were safe, that they got the best education, that they were as healthy as they could possibly be. Back then it didn't seem like work. Trust me, you will understand the first time you hold your child. You don't make the choice to raise them well, it's in your _blood_. I'm not going to bullshit you, it _is_ hard work, but it won't seem like it."

His words placated Chris but it was evident to the older man that his friend was not entirely satisfied.

"Unless this is about more than you?"

Chris sighed again. How the hell could he translate all that he thought into words? Jill's condition remained his most pressing concern but he had begun to entertain the idea of what fatherhood would be like if she had not improved by the time she gave birth. It was a concern that had haunted him since he first thought of her pregnancy in a realistic sense. He was no stranger to post-partum depression, having witnessed his cousin suffer through it before he moved away to join the Air Force. It was a horrible thing to witness and he knew that it would be more than enough to push Jill far past the point of no return. He had never pinned her as the type who would suffer from post-partum depression but he couldn't help but wonder if her current fragile state of mind would pre-dispose her to develop it.

He voiced these concerns to his old friend, who listened intently.

"I-I know this sounds awful, but I couldn't cope with raising a child on my own and looking after Jill if it got that far," he lamented. "I couldn't possibly give them both what they needed."

"I wish I could give you advice," Barry spoke quietly. "But I don't know what to suggest. From the sounds of things, you're doing all you can to help her. Right now it seems like a case of simply waiting it out. Hopefully she will recover sufficiently before that time comes, but if it comes to the worst-case scenario there's people who can help her. She will be forced to accept help if it gets that far."

A hand rose to stroke his beard carefuly as he fell silent for a moment.

"Honestly, I don't think that Jill is the kind of woman who will let it get that far," he concluded. "Wherever her mind is now, she is still the same woman we met all those years ago. You said yourself that she is getting better. It's a slow process but you have time. Just let her know that you are there and she will come to you."

A short "hmm" escaped from Chris's chest as he realised how true Barry's words were. Every day he saw a little more of the old Jill and he knew that she would bring the voice of reason to the shattered women that was the current Jill. Whatever happened, he knew that he would be there, even if it killed him.

"It's the diapers that you have to worry about," Barry laughed, attempting to turn the conversation in a more light-hearted direction. "But I'm sure that Claire will let you have lots of practice on her little one, _uncle_."

Chris groaned at the mention of the word 'uncle'. 'Father' did not affect him as much as he thought it would, but somehow 'uncle' forced him to seriously think about skipping the country. He concluded that it was the knowledge that, with the absence of grandparents, Claire would no doubt be dropping baby Kennedy at 'Uncle Chris's' house whenever she needed a babysitter. It had long since occured to him that saying 'no' to his sister was as futile as trying to understand one of Rebecca's research papers.

"Two babies in the space of a few months..." Chris thought aloud. "Who would have thought that we'd even have one between us?"

Barry silently agreed, remembering the cause they had committed themselves to and still trying to figure out how the hell it was all over.

"I'll tell you one thing," he pointed out. "These children won't be short of love."

"The generation that we never expected to see," Chris agreed with a nod.

His mind was drawn back to Africa, to the armageddon he had somehow managed to prevent. What would the world have been like now had Wesker succeeded? Would they still be alive? Would they even be human?

After a few minutes of intense thought, he decided not to dwell on the matter any longer.

As his thoughts subsided, a deep burning in the corners of his heart remained and his grip on the glass bottle in his hands tightened. He did not fully understand the intense feeling that had seized him but he knew that it was likely to be unwelcome.

* * *

"Chris!"

She could not breathe deep enough, could not scream loud enough to release herself from the pain. Every breath she drew scorched her lungs as tears streaked her flushed cheeks.

"Ma'am, please relax," a nurse begged, holding her gently to the bed. "If you continue to move you will only prolong the pain."

Another searing pain shot through her body, setting every nerve alight with an agony that seemed physically impossible. The hospital staffed buzzed around the large, white room, their shouts drowned out by the agonising screams that were torn from the ailing woman.

"Chris!" She screamed again, kicking wildly as two doctors rushed forward to hold her legs down, holding them apart wide enough for a third to kneel between them and push her hospital gown further up her thighs. "Where is Chris? Please, he needs to be here! He-ah!"

Perspiration beaded on every inch of exposed skin, her skin flushed a deep shade of red. She knew that something was wrong, that the pain she felt was beyond normal limits. Her body jerked violently as yet another severe pain flashed through her, this time more intense than before. It was as though something was tearing her apart from the inside, ripping her uterus to shreds. Gloved hands pinned her own to the bed, voices begging her to lie still. She could not tolerate the unfamiliar voices that begged her to calm down. What the fuck did they know about what she was going through?

"I want my husband!" she screamed, thrusting an arm out so hard and fast that she backhanded a young midwife. She felt cartilage break against her hand and the blood that sprayed up her arm signified the extent of the damage she had inflicted.

"Strap her down!" a male doctor shouted, holding her shoulders as several other faceless doctors attempted to strap her arms to the metal railings.

_Agony. Helplessness. Falling. Pain. Chris. Glass. Rocks. ...Wesker._

Memories of her captivity seized her, fuelling her enough to be able to break one of her arm restraints and place a moist hand against her pregnant belly. She could feel no movement, no sign that her child was still alive.

"We need 10ccs of-"

"There's no time for that! We have to deliver now!"

"Chris! Please, I need Chris!"

"Jill, we can't wait any longer, you have to push."

Her back arched in sheer agony from the pain that now seemed to have settled in permanently. Tears stung at her eyes, blood trickling down her chin as she bit hard into her bottom lip. She had not expected childbirth to be like this, and she sure as hell had not expected to go through it alone.

Hopelessness washed over her and suddenly pain was not the only reason for her tears. She should have known that he would leave her, that he wouldn't stand by her when he had the opportunity to cut and run. He had been so convincing that she almost believed that he would stay with her until the end. She should have known that ultimately it would be too much for him to bear.

"Push, now!"

Jill let out an animalistic scream of rage, her anger fuelling her body long enough for her to obey the midwife's orders. There was no Chris, no family...all that was left was her child and she sure as hell wasn't about to give up on them now.

"That's great, now push again."

She could feel something large stretching her further than she cared to imagine. The pain was indescribable and she felt a wet warmth against her thighs, a curious sensation that she chose not to dwell on in such a dire moment.

"There's too much blood, she must be haemmoraging!"

'No!' The words that reached her ears through her own screams caused her heart to freeze in her chest, all other sounds fading as a steady pulse throbbed in her throat.

Another violent scream was wrenched from her as she pushed hard. If she was going to die she did not want to take her child with her.

Flashes of her life with Chris shot across her mind and she was filled with a warm, loving feeling that dulled the pain that seemed to have paralysed her from the waist-down. She could remember his happiness when she had told him that he was to be a father, she could remember the day he fell down on one knee and proposed to her, the day of their wedding...the night their child was conceived.

In that moment she found it hard to feel anger towards him for not being with her in her hour of need. She felt weak and helpless, as though the life was draining from her with the blood she saw pooled around her hips. If she wasn't going to make it, she wanted to make sure that Chris would not lose his child as well. She was broken, shattered and had been a burden on him for far too long...it was the child who would make him happy, who would help him recover from all she had put him through. Her delirious mind concluded that it was better this way.

"One more push," she heard, the voice so dull and far away.

So she pushed. She pushed harder than she thought herself capable of and was rewarded with a sudden release as the pain dulled and her legs were allowed to fall down onto the bed. The room spun around her, the ceiling appearing toflicker and distort as she stared up at it.

It was then that a sharp cry pierced the bubble she had retreated into and brought her back to reality with a sharp tug.

"Go get him."

Despite her fatigue and the throbbing pain that remained between her legs, Jill attempted to sit upright in anticipation of the child being placed into her welcoming arms.

"Can I hold them?" she asked, aware of the blood that continued to trickle down her legs but not of the lack of attention the medical staff were paying to her. She was weak beyond words, barely able to hold her head upright but she continued to watch the midwife that held her wailing baby. A single red foot protruded from the bottom of the blanket that had been hastily wrapped around the child and this sight was more than enough to cause a smile to break out on her face. Still, the newborn remained in the arms of a stranger, the faceless medical staff occupying themselves with anything but her condition.

"Please, let me hold my baby," she begged as a sudden uneasiness descended upon her. The midwife paid no attention to her and continued to bounce the baby in his arms, whispering hushed words to it.

"Hey!" she screamed as loud as she could. The midwife broke his concentration for a moment to look at her and smirked, continuing to hold the child out of her reach.

"Shut the fuck up you whining bitch," a voice beside her ordered. The nurse she had violently backhanded stood by her head, a bloody hand held to her nose.

"What's going on? What the _fuck_ is going on? Where is Chris?"

"I'm afraid that Chris couldn't make it tonight."

What was left of the blood in her body suddenly ran cold. Her fading mind could not proccess the voice that her ears heard. It was impossible, he was dead. Despite her constant repetition of this fact she remained afraid, pushing herself into the soft matress as though she would fall through it and out of this hell.

As she turned her head she saw that her fears were not unwarranted. Wesker turned his head slightly, observing her as a predator would its prey. He boasted the same immaculate appearance he had the last time they had met; pale skin, slicked-back yellow hair and a grin that could turn even the most fearless man to stone.

A dull thud caused her to jump as something small hit the pillow beside her head. In her weakened state it took great effort to twist her body into a position where she would be able to pick up this item but she managed it with great effort.

The thick crimson liquid that dripped from the old dog tags stained the pillow and her skin. They were covered in a layer of blood and gore so thick that it took her several moments to realise what it was that she held. The purpose of this seemingly meaningless item eluded her and she looked up at Wesker in bewilderment before he tilted his head again, encouraging her to take a closer look.

She moved her thumb over the tainted surface several times, a small sliver of slick severed flesh falling from the warm metal onto her chest. Letters could be felt beneath her skin but her blurred vision prevented her from reading them.

Hesitantly, she raised the dog tags to her eyes.

_Redfield, Christopher_

No scream voiced her horror. She could not move, not even to blink away the tears that blurred what was left of her vision. Chris rarely left the house without his old Air Force tags hung around his neck. It was nostalgia, nothing more, but it was not a habit that he was quick to drop. If the dog tags belonged to her husband then the mess that coated them was obviously what was left of him.

Jill wanted nothing more than to demand the truth, to beg her adversary to tell her that he was playing mind games with her again, yet she did not seem to possess the capability to produce words. Her throat had seized up, the emotional pain that ravaged her chest proving far more potent than the physical pain that lingered from the recent birth.

"Chris and I, we...had a little _fun_," Wesker explained, suddenly holding her newborn child.

"Get the fuck away from my child," she fumed as speech returned, her breaths now becoming painful and labored.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he taunted, smiling down at her now-silent baby. "This child is perfect for my new 'project'; the right age, good genetics. I would be a fool if I were to give it up. Besides, where would it go with no parents? You're slowly bleeding out and Chris is in no fit state to look after a child. Actually, he is in no fit state to do anything anymore."

The numbness that had seized her when the letters became visible to her faded and she was able to let out another scream, turning to bite into the pillow in the hopes that it would make the pain easier to bear. It was pure fire on the soul, ripping her heart to pieces in the most agonising way possible. She could take physical pain but this...this was different, this was _horrific_.

Chris had never been given the opportunity to see their child. Knowing Wesker he had probably not even been told that she was still alive. The dog tags lay next to her head, perfectly in her field of vision. She did not want to think about the pain he must had suffered before Wesker finally finished the job; hers must have paled in comparison.

She no longer cared that she was dying, or that Wesker had finally managed to exact his 'revenge'. Chris was gone, her child would never know who she was; there was nothing left for her. All she wanted was for it to be over, to be at peace as Chris now was.

It seemed as though her prayers would be answered when she felt the barrel of a handgun press against the base of her neck.

"Torturing you won't be as much fun," Wesker commented, still cradling Chris's child in both arms. "I can tell that by this point you won't even care. You _have_ given me this child so I will show you an act of mercy. My first and my last. All I will promise is that your death will be quicker and less painful than his was."

Wesker turned on his heel and left the hospital room, the tiles around the small door seeming to crack before Jill's eyes. The sterile white seemed to fade into a rustic brown, the door frame collapsing in on itself.

It was the last that she saw before a loud pop tinted her world black.

* * *

A sudden scream ripped him violently from what he admitted was a pleasant sleep. His wife's weight shifted beside him and he shot upright, unable to determine the source of the noise in his delerium. It took no more than a few seconds for his eyes to fall on Jill, bolt-upright, clutching her chest as she continued to emit short, heartwrenching sobs.

"Jill?" he asked, worry seizing him in a harsh embrace. "Are you alright?"

Her eyes snapped around to meet his and an unexplained relief filled them. Within seconds she had thrown her arms around him, holding him in a grip so tight it began to restrict his oxygen supply. Be that as it may, he could not bring himself to push her away. She held onto him with such a desperation it struck fear into the very centre of his heart. Her trembling form pressed tight against his body as she began to cry into his neck, and her cries were no quiet whimpers; they were heaving sobs that not even his skin could muffle.

"Hey," he soothed, reciprocating her hug with one of equal desperation. "It's okay, it was only a dream."

At the simple mention of the word she pulled back a little, enough to smash her lips against hungrily. Again, Chris found it difficult to deny her that which obviously gave her great comfort and responded by pulling her onto his lap so that her body was flush with his and groaning appreciatively into her mouth.

Moments later, she pulled back without warning and gripped his face tightly with moist hands.

"Oh God," she breathed, her voice heavy with uncertain emotion. "Please tell me this isn't the dream."

He could feel his heart crack from the weight of her words and the emotion behind them. In her eyes he could see a pain that he had not seen since the death of their friends all those years ago. It was the pain brought on only by a loss so tremendous it caused the mind to all but shatter. It was as though a part of her had been torn away and she was desperate to know if she had found the missing piece.

As though instinctively, a solitary hand fell to her stomach, running downwards over the small bump before coming to rest with the heel just below her navel.

"He- he took our baby," she sobbed hysterically, sinking back into the arms that moved around her once again.

Chris did not need to ask who she spoke of; the tremors alone spoke volumes. Only their former captain could have such a profound effect on one so strong as Jill.

"Wesker," he whispered, as though speaking the name would erase the tyrant's actions. His words were immediately regretted when he felt the woman in his arms seize up fearfully. Unwelcome thoughts raced through his conciousness and a sickening thought occured to him. It was enough to make him hold her possessively, reviled as he imagined those inhuman hands all over her body, ripping that awful purple suit open.

"Jill," he spoke tentatively, eyes fixed straight ahead. Even his voice betrayed his thoughts and she turned to look him in the eyes. "Did he rape you?"

His voice broke mid-sentence, the thought too horrifying to bear, and for a moment he thought that she had not understood him. As an nervous laugh escaped her he knew that this was not the case.

"No," she answered truthfully. His whole body relaxed as he clung to her words, tears of relief threatening to betray his masculinity. "But that doesn't make what he _did_ do to me, what he _made me do_, meaningless. He was a monster...and he tried to turn me into one."

She descended into hysterics once again and just like before, he was there to comfort her. He did not know the gratitude that she felt for this.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, to which she replied with a slow shake of the head. "About your dream?"

There was no reply to his second statement and he stared at her in bewilderment as a faraway look settled in her eyes and she ran her hands over his large biceps. A persistant tingle of pleasure shot through the surface of his skin as her hands moved up to his neck and then onto his cheeks. She seemed ecstatic beyond words and this simply confused him; she would not have screamed so horrifically had her dream been pleasant.

"I gave birth," she explained, a recent pain reflected in her voice. "You weren't there and I though you had left me...I thought you had grown tired of dealing with me. But...Wesker killed you...violently. You were dead and all I could think about were all the horrible things I'd thought about you. Then he took our child for one of his experiements, he-"

Another hoarse cry cut her sentence short and Chris decided that he had heard enough. All he could do was hold her and wait for her to calm enough to talk rationally. It became obvious after a few long moments that this was a scenario that would not happen that night.

"Shit," she swore with laughter. "I'm a mess. Oh God, I'm glad you're here."

"In the flesh," he replied with a laugh of his own, attempting to inject some humor into the situation.

Her embrace became less desperate as her tears subsided, but fear lingered in her eyes. Chris could tell that she was eager to say something but the words remained just out of her grasp.

"What do you want?" he whispered, willing to give her the world should she ask for it. Fortunately she settled for considerably less.

"Just...hold me," she breathed. "Please."

Without another word he obliged and gently lay her onto her back. The warmth that radiated off her slender body was nigh on uncomfortable in the sticky heat but he did not complain and simply pushed back the sheets as his arms wound around her, his chin resting gently on the top of her head. Once again he was filled with a quiet rage, one that only served to fuel his possessiveness over her. He pushed it to the back of his mind with the knowledge that this was neither the time nor place for petty quarrels. It pleased him that she had divulged the contents of her dream but they had disturbed him in a way he had not thought possible. It obviously caused her great pain to think of Wesker and to even entertain the thought that she was alone without Chris. He could not know that simply the way he held her at that moment was enough to reassure her that he was in it for the long haul.

Unsure of what he could do to help her this time, he lay there quietly, knowing that this was enough for now. He watched her protectively, noticing the way her eyelids continued to flutter shut, as though she were desperate to remain awake but too exhausted to do so. In an act of reassurance, he pressed his lips to her forehead and told her to sleep, that he would be there when she woke up. Seemingly satisfied, her eyelids slid downwards and remained that way as her breathing settled into a steady rhythm.

Chris knew that he would not sleep that night.

**AN - Please review :)**


	10. Calling All Skeletons

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN **- Apologies for the late update. I did want to get this up sooner but this chapter has been a bit of a pain, so I hope it turned out alright. Let's just say that Jill wasn't supposed to talk as much as she does. Hopefully the next chapter will be up pretty soon :). Chapter title is once again from a song by Alkaline Trio.

It's time to thank all my amazing readers again, especially those who took the time to review ^_^. You know who you are, **Stardust4, JILLsandwiches101, Tiger Snaps, Kenshin13, michellex, kawaii Jen, Alpha Pepper, d-chan-67, Ryoko Metallium, MsValentine, janey's got a gun****, Devil Rebel, xmenrocks, Rugbyfan, Keybladem, tek, Kira131, Sparkle Valentine, Ultimolu, Limesoup **and** Wootabulous.** Thank you! I really can't stress enough how much I appreciate a huge thank you to everyone who favourited/alerted and a big hello to the new readers.

_**Chapter Nine** - Calling All Skeletons  
_

_"Now the time has come I just wish I could erase all the damage done, all this pain, all this heartache."_

**_May 7th, 1996_**

The pungent stench of cleaning products caused Chris's eyes to water viciously. Glancing around the hallways, it was difficult to tell where exactly had been cleaned; the Raccoon City Police Department was an old building and, in keeping with its rustic aesthetic, had a seemingly immovable thin layer of dirt coating almost every wall outside of the main hall. Rubbing bleach and other vile chemicals into the walls did little to improve the appearance of the long hallways. A fresh coat of paint or new wallpaper was all that was needed but everyone knew how tight Chief Irons was and held little hope for a pleasant working environment.

"Hey, Redfield," Forest called as he rounded a corner up ahead waved a hand over-enthusiastically. "Man, you look wiped. Try and stop to breathe, right?"

Chris let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. The S.T.A.R.S. team had only been formed under the tutelage of Albert Wesker two months ago and Chris had been a member for little more than three weeks, but in that short time he had become good friends with the other members, especially Forest Speyer. Like himself, Forest was a keen marksman and could not pass up an opportunity to hit the shooting gallery in lieu of doing actualy work. A friendly rivallry developed within a few days of the two men meeting each other and a friendly shoot-out was always followed by an even friendlier drink down at the local bar. Forest was not a sore loser and Chris liked that about him.

"Ah, Wesker's had me running around chasing a weapon shipment," he explained, trying hard to stifle a yawn. "Sorry you guys had to pick up my jobs."

Forest waved his hand again, though it was easy for him to shrug this comment off as it had been Richard who had inherited Chris's daily tasks.

"You met your new partner yet?" he asked with a mischievous grin. Chris found it hard not to laugh at Forest's pronunciation of the word 'partner'. His southern accent often made him sound like a bad Western movie hero.

"Not yet," he denied. "I'll see them tomorrow. Gonna clock off now before I pass out." Another yawn followed his statement and Forest rolled his eyes pitifully before slapping his colleague on the back and guiding him down the hallway.

"Don't wait that long," he suggested. "We invited her to Jack's tonight, sort of as a way to get to know her before we start working together. Come with us, it should be fun."

"_Her_?" Chris asked in confusion. Wesker had only briefly mentioned that the new recruit, who would be assigned as Chris's partner, would be starting work that day. He failed to mention the name of this recruit or the gender and Chris had assumed that his partner would be male.

"Yeah, her name is Jill," Forest continued, oblivious to his friend's confusion. "She's a really nice girl. Seems tough, too. Military experience, very impressive reccomendations. Not too hard on the eyes, either. But don't worry, she's not really your type."

Chris balked a little at this suggestion and the connotations that went along with it.

"_Not my type_?" he repeated. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Forest smirked to himself, having known that his little comment would have wound him up.

"Come on, Chris," he laughed. "If she was your type you would be on her like a bad rash, I know what you're like. Remember the girl you took home last week? Drop dead gorgeous, big tits, easier than Sunday morning. I saw the photograph of your ex, too...she wouldn't have looked out of place in Playboy. Jill's...well she's good looking but I wouldn't say she's gorgeous. She's a more classy beauty and a tits and ass man like yourself can't appreciate that kind of-"

"Dude, I was drunk!" Chris defended as he pushed Forest away from him, dislodging the arm his friend had draped over his shoulder. "She could have looked like the bride of Frankenstein and I probably still would have taken her home. As for my ex, she was a nice girl."

"Until she slept with that bartender."

"Until she slept with that bartender," Chris sighed in agreement, not welcoming the reminder of his ex's actions. He had always seen her as a sweet, loving girl, faithful to the core until the night he came home to find her with her thighs wrapped around some sleazy greaseball. When it turned out that he was not the only man she had been fucking while he was away with the Air Force he couldn't drop her quick enough.

It frustrated him how unlucky he was with women. He wasn't perfect but he didn't go out of his way to make others miserable, he respected women without making premature judgements and overall he considered himself to be a nice guy. So why was it that he always attracted the girls who were never satisfied with just one dick?

"Cheer up, man," Forest ordered when he saw Chris's downcast expression. "You're twenty-three, you've got your whole life to find someone good."

He was thankful for this lame attempt to cheer him up but the thought alone had turned his mood sour. It took only a quick look around to discover that he had no female friends, every girl that met him wanting only one part of him and not wanting that for long. He was more than happy with this arrangement most of the time but now and then he would look up and realise that it was not what he truly wanted.

"I think I'll give Jack's a miss," he yawned. "I'm exhausted, the last thing I need right now is a beer."

Forest was disappointed with him but chose not to show it. There was always another time for beer and it probably wasn't the best idea for Chris to meet his new partner in the state he would be in after a few bottles and little rest.

"That's okay, we'll fill her in, tell her how much of an ass you are," he said. "If you change your mind, we'll be there at about eight."

With a final thump on the back, Forest disappeared into the small S.T.A.R.S. office to their right and Chris was left alone outside as laughter drifted through the closing door. He waited for a few moments, debating whether or not to stay for a while longer but as another yawn seized him he decided that the best option was bed.

The hallways continued to wind, turning off in directions Chris had never ventured before. It amazed him how any of the employees could find their way around the maze of corridors and doubted that he would ever be able to maneuver them without making a wrong turn. It was like something out of a bad horror movie, he noted, complete with cobwebs and a layer of dust that even the cleaners dared not touch. As S.T.A.R.S. was a new team, they were left with the only office big enough to accomodate them that had not already been taken by one of the other departments. It therefore figured that the office was in the bowels of the police department.

As he drew closer to the main hall more and more employees began to move past him, all of them off in their own little world, rushing around with manila folders tucked under their arms or hastily carrying cups of piping hot coffee between rooms. He was too caught up with observing this crowd that he failed to notice a small woman exit one of the many doors that lined the long, dingy corridor until she collided almost painfully with him.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, reaching out to grab her wrists as she bounced off his lean yet muscular frame and was sent hurtling towards the floor. Fortunately he was able to pull her up before her knees touched the ground and continued to hold onto her arms until he was sure that she was steady on her feet. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"That's okay," she laughed in a smooth, lilting voice as she forcefully pulled her arms free and dusted herself off. "Thanks for- Oh!"

Her eyes lingered on his chest, slightly above his left nipple, before darting up to his face then back down to where the S.T.A.R.S. logo was emblazoned on his T-shirt.

"You're S.T.A.R.S.?" her eyes shot back up to meet his and she smiled warmly, melting away his irritation at almost being carelessly rammed off his feet. "I don't recognise you, you must be Chris? Chris Redfield?"

He nodded slowly, not quite wanting to get into a conversation with anyone at that moment, especially not with a stranger.

"I'm Jill, Jill Valentine," she explained, holding out a slender hand. "I just started with S.T.A.R.S. today. Captain Wesker tells me I'm your new partner."

"O-oh," he stuttered in reply as she shook her outstretched hand, unsure of what to say. Unwillingly, he found his eyes being drawn to hers, remembering what Forest had told him earlier.

He found it hard to disagree with Forest; she was pretty but not what he would refer to as 'stunning'. Her skin was a little pale, a fact emphasised by the dark brown hair she had pulled hastily back into a makeshift ponytail. Her eyes were a delicate yet piercing shade of blue, enigmatic in a way that held his gaze until her eyelids swooped downwards in a quick blink. He noted that these eyes were not surrounded by the thick layer of black that he was so accustomed to seeing. As a result, he barely noticed her naturally long eyelashes or the way her eyes shone with a deep intelligence and warmth. Her nose was a little rounded but sat perfectly on her face and the lips that lay beneath were pink and possessed a natural pout that other women often paid thousands of dollars to possess. They were the kind of lips that were heavenly to kiss. He tried not to allow his eyes to linger on her body for too long, noticing how her muscular form still retained its femininity while remaining dangerous and athletic. The clothes that she wore - dark blue combat trousers and a plain white T-shirt - emphasised her figure in a way they were not intended to.

Despite the plainness of her appearance, Chris could tell that she was a naturally beautiful girl. Everything about her screamed minimal effort yet she still boasted a certain sexiness that he couldn't quite understand. The only element she had in common with the girls he had acquainted himself with in the past were the rounded breasts that stretched the linen of her T-shirt tightly across her body. They were not abnormally large but they filled her T-shirt enough for Chris to know that she had been blessed. If he wanted to describe them the word he would have used was 'perfect'.

Jill seemed to be checking him out as he watched her, her eyes travelling over the muscles that were startlingly visible through his thin green T-shirt. Chris was not a fitness buff but he liked to keep in shape and the evidence of his time spent in the gym obviously impressed his new partner.

"It's good to meet you," he greeted, realising how inappropriate it was for them to judge each other based on physical appearances and to eye each other up when they had barely exchanged a few words. Jill obviously agreed as she cleared her throat and returned the sentiment.

Her eyes were drawn to the mess of brown hair that rested on his head and appeared to have been gelled to within an inch of its life. It was obvious that she disapproved as a light frown became visible and she flashed him a smile that said plainly "you look cute in an asshole kind of way". This judgement threw him off as it differed so much from the usual wink and flirtatious smile that was thrown his way.

In his annoyance at being silently put-down by a girl who probably spent her evenings reading smutty romance novels he agreed with Forest's assumption; she wasn't his type, not by a long shot. It was obvious from her stance that she had an attitude and he had virtually no experience with girls with character, preferring to stay well away out of fear of confrontation. Not without humiliation, he accepted that Forest was right about his 'type'; big tits, short skirts, nothing between the ears and so many notches on their bedpost it had whittled away. He no longer cared if this mentality earned him a bad reputation; he had no luck with relationships so it was better if he chased the girls who were incapable of being in one.

"I'm glad I got to meet you today," she spoke, snapping him from his disheartening thoughts. "The others told me so much about you. Seems you're quite popular here."

"Ah, not by choice," he pointed out awkwardly. "Wesker just gives me all the high profile jobs. So I suppose I should be glad that I have you to kick ass with now. It sucks when you can't share the glory."

Jill laughed honestly and heartily and Chris cursed himself for assuming that she would be some hard-ass who didn't know how to lighten up.

"I'll bet," she smirked. "You looked like you were in a hurry so I won't keep you. Are you going to, uh...Jack's tonight?"

Her eyes searched his, trying to find an answer before he spoke the words.

"No, probably not. I'm wiped out, it wouldn't be pretty if I started drinking. It will be good for you to get to know the other guys though."

An air of disappointment fell over his partner and he could not for the life of him think why.

"That's a shame," she admitted. "I was looking forward to getting to know _you_. The other guys seem nice enough, though. I was terrified when I started this morning but they all made me feel welcome."

"That's S.T.A.R.S. for you," Chris told her with a wink. "One for all, all for one and all that crap. We got lucky with who Wesker hired. No assholes so far."

"I promise I won't be the first," Jill laughed with a wink of her own. At first Chris thought that she was flirting with him but realised after a moment or two that it was simply the way she was. "Anyway, I'll let you go now. I've got a bus to catch. See you tomorrow."

Chris was still in a mild delerium as she turned and began to walk towards the main hall, a jacket he had not noticed before slung over her arm. His fingers fidgeted with the bottom of his T-shirt as he watched her walk away, processing her words in a manner that was unnaturally slow for him.

"Jill!" he called, jogging up to her once he realised what she had been saying. "You're taking the bus home? Do you not have a car?"

Jill spun round and sighed heavily, obviously expecting him to poke fun at her.

"I just moved here at the weekend," she explained. "I haven't even unpacked all my belongings let alone had time to look round dealerships."

Chris was taken aback by her suddenly gloomy attitude and rasied both eyebrows in surprise.

"Since you're new here you probably don't know that public transport in Raccoon is unreliable at best," he explained. "Let me give you a ride."

"Really?" she asked, suprised at his generosity.

"Really," he confirmed. "It's no big deal."

She mulled his offer over for a few short seconds and nodded slowly before voicing her answer.

"Okay," she agreed. "Thank you. I suppose it would give us some time to talk."

Chris smiled to himself, something which she picked up on almost instantly.

"Maybe not," he chuckled. "I should probably mention that my car is being serviced. So, I'm riding my Ducati to work at the moment."

"You mean you ride a motorcycle?" she clarified, seemingly impressed with this revelation.

"Are you okay to ride on one?" he asked, remembering that most girls, with the exception of his sister, were a little averse to straddling his bike.

"Hey, I'm no sorority chick," she announced as Chris stopped at reception to pick up his spare helmet. "I dated a guy in high school who rode a Harley. He'd take me everywhere on it. My aunt and uncle weren't too pleased but what could they do?"

Chris paused for a moment as a sombre expression befell her at the mention of her aunt and uncle. He noted her use of the words and the absence of 'mom' or 'dad'.

"You were raised by your aunt and uncle?" he asked, able to draw a parallel between their lives for the first time.

"For a while," she replied.

"Me too," he divulged as he held out the helmet for her to take. "Can't say they were the best years of my life but they did their best."

Jill smiled, an indescribable emotion settling in her eyes. As she took the helmet from him gratefully she nodded slowly with the smile still lingering.

"When I drop you off, just hold on to the helmet," he told her, breaking the comfortable silence. "You'll need it when I pick you up later."

"I thought you weren't going?" she asked, bewildered.

Chris turned and flashed her a warm smile, to which she responded with a raised eyebrow and deadpan stare.

"I...changed my mind."

* * *

**_Present day_**

The shopping mall was always dead at that time of day but a crowd still gathered around the food court, milling around a table in the centre at which a bored blonde sat alone. She impatiently picked at the corner of her empty salad tray, hypnotised by the short scrapes her fingernails made along the plastic. Occasionally she would look up and around and sigh in resignation as she realised that she had once again turned up too early. Given that her friend was rarely on time, she should have known better than to follow through with her great idea of arriving early to eat before they met.[

"Jill!" A jubilous exclamation caused her to look up and a smile found its way to her dry lips as she watched her sister-in-law bound over to her lonely table with much enthusiasm.

"Hey, Claire," she greeted, rising from her seat. "It's good to see you."

They met in an awkward embrace, Claire's large belly the biggest obstacle to the girls' affection. Now pushing on seven months, little could be done to ignore her ever-expanding waistline. Looking at Claire made Jill feel a little more comfortable with herself. Her own abdomen was barely hidden beneath an empire-line top that floated around her bump but it was nothing compared to her friend's. It was a vision of what was yet to come but she knew that there were months between them.

"You too," Claire gushed, holding her as though she had not seen her in years. In the months since the barbecue, meetings between the two had been unpredictable, often resulting as little more than a casual greeting when Claire arrived to raid her brother's DVD collection again. Faced with an afternoon off work and several chapters of a pregnancy book she had been neglecting, she chose to pick up the phone and arrange a reunion of sorts.

"You look good," Claire commented with a smile. "_Really_ good. I'm glad."

A secretive smile caused her to raise her eyebrows in confusion and Jill sought to rectify this by taking her hand and pressing it to her abdomen. Though her bump was by no means unnoticable, her choice of outfit that day made her swelling appear due to the fabric of her top. Hence the surprise that overcame the younger woman as her fingers found a definite dip.

"You're- You too?" she stammered. Jill replied with a giddy nod before she was forcefully pulled into another tight embrace.

"Uh, Claire," she choked, attempting and failing to push herself away from her over-emotional friend. "You're too big to hug me like that now."

In an instant, Claire released her and muttered a half-hearted apology, eyes fixed on the protrusion beneath her top.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "How long? How far?"

A persistant discomfort settled in the base of Jill's spine and she lowered herself down into her chair once again, Claire following suit a moment later.

"Sixteen weeks," she answered. "Give or take a few days. We've known for just over a month. It...well, it came as a bit of a surprise, actually. A welcome surprise."

Claire beamed at her, seemingly unable to express how genuinely happy she was for the girl with words.

"Nobody deserves this more than you two," she told her. "Really, I'm so happy for you."

Jill simply smiled back in response, feeling another bubble of happiness fill her being. Even after slowly digesting her condition for five weeks, she still found it hard to believe that she was soon to be a mother.

"So are you and Chris...are you okay now?"

She thought for a moment, trying to define 'okay'. The problems they had that Claire was no doubt referring to were caused simply by a breakdown in communication, brought on by her unexpected descent into despair. Even through their darkest days there was atill a glimmer of hope. Nobody went through the hell they had together without developing a bond that ran deeper than emotions and blood. It scared the hell out of her when she realised how close to the edge she had brought Chris, watching him force himself into considering divorce as a realistic option. It was enough for her to swallow her pride and call out for help. What ensued only caused the bond between them to solidify to a level far past unbreakable and their relationship flourished as a result.

It often occured to her that perhaps loving each other too much was what had caused their problems in the first place; the desperation to protect each other from emotional harm proving to be more of a hindrance than a help.

"Yeah," she answered after a few moments of silence. "We wasted too much time when we were younger. We can't afford to waste any more by fighting over stupid little things."

"I wouldn't call your situation stupid _or_ little," Claire pointed out, her face set in the most serious expression Jill had ever seen her wear. "To be honest, we were all scared after the barbeque. We had never seen you act like that before and, well...things between you and Chris didn't seem too good. We all thought it wouldn't be long before we heard that you were getting divorced and we were all shit scared of what that would mean for you. Rebecca told us to give you both space and I'm glad we did."

Jill nodded in silent agreement, knowing that had they not given herself and Chris the space they so desperately needed she would have ended up pushing them all away. Instead, all of her anger was vented on Chris, who reacted by allowing her to scream at him for as long as she needed and never once blamed her for her harsh words. She felt ashamed of the way she had treated him but found solace in the fact that he never took her outbursts to heart.

"It hasn't been easy," she lamented, amazing even herself that she would admit such a thing out loud. Claire's hand found its way to hers and a reassuring squeeze brought a smile to her lips. "He's been brilliant. I never would have made it this far without him."

"I'm glad he met you," Claire told her, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "He changed when he was in S.T.A.R.S. and after getting to know you I know that it was all because of you."

She shifted in her seat and pulled her hands away from Jill. The plastic chair groaned as she pressed herself against the hard back and pursed her lips.

"He was an ass," she spoke bluntly. "His ex-girlfriends were all air-headed bimbos he knew weren't any good for him. I still remember when he told me about his 'new partner', how she intimidated him. It was strange to hear his opinion change over the space of a few months. I knew he was falling for you because every other sentence would be 'Jill said this' or 'Jill did that'. It took him so long to confess because he was just so dumb when it came to you. I mean, you know he's nowhere near as stupid as he acted back then. Even though I was just a teenager at the time, I knew what he felt for you was the real thing and I was so scared of him letting it slip through his fingers."

Jill let out a short, quiet laugh and her cheeks stung from the smile that followed.

"I thought he was an ass," she admitted. "We quickly became friends but even then we would constantly wind each other up. By the time I realised that I had feelings for him I was already too deeply in love to back out. After- after the incident at the mansion, he stayed with me and just held me all night, didn't say a word. He was hurting, too, but he seemed more concerned about me than himself. He's like that now and I..."

As her sentence trailed off she swallowed the lump that had found its way to her throat. There was no need to continue speaking; Claire understood perfectly.

"Unfortunately that's my brother," Claire sighed. "Listen, Jill...I know that Chris can't remain impartial where you are concerned. He is exactly the same with me. I was there after your fall, I saw the hell he put himself through. I- I guess what I'm trying to say is that you don't have to rely on him. I don't want to speak for the others but I want you to know that I'm here if you ever need to talk...about anything. I promise that nothing will get back to Chris. I'm not as personally involved in this as he is."

A deep silence fell between them and the voices of the customers quickly rushed in to fill the void with a low monotonous buzz. Jill considered her friend's words carefully and the effect they had on her was not what she had been expecting. A further weight seemed to have been lifted off her chest and the simple feeling of knowing that her husband was not the only person who cared enough to offer whatever form of solace she required pushed against her heart until tears prickled in the corners of her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered gratefully, giving no indication of whether or not she would take her up on that offer.

Claire sensed a change in her demeanor but mistook it as discomfort and took it upon herself to change the subject before an emotional outburst became possible. She knew all too well how hormones tweaked with the emotions of pregnant women, and did not want to be on the receiving end of what she had been subjecting her fiancé to for the past few months.

"It's a girl, you know," she revealed, running a single hand over her large bump.

"Congratulations," Jill told her with a smile. She did not know how to respond to such news and was indeed unsure of whether or not Claire had been hoping for a daughter.

"What about you? Do you know yet?"

Jill shook her head as she too leaned back in her chair. The discomfort in her back had begun to dull but it still left her feeling uncomfortable and somewhat irritable. Without Chris's hands to massage away all her troubles, she simply had to tolerate this minor inconvenience.

"I don't think we want to know," she confessed. "We haven't really discussed it yet but... I don't know, there's just something about the element of surprise, something special about finding out the gender when you're holding them in your arms."

Claire groaned in faint disgust, a disbelieveing eye roll accompanying her outburst.

"That's too soppy for me," she complained. "Knowing the gender is more practical. Plus, this way I know what colour to tell Leon to decorate the nursery."

The two girls laughed loudly at this. Jill had not yet had the opportunity to talk to Leon about Claire's pregnancy but she just knew that his fiancée would have had him under her thumb in an almost extreme way. Leon was just as strong-willed as Claire was but did not boast the infamous fiery Redfield temper that she had learned to hold above his head at all times. He had confessed on many occasions that he would rather deal with a Tyrant than with one of Claire's mood swings. Jill, on the other hand, was lucky enough to be the one person who could control her significant other's temper.

As their laughter subsided, Jill glanced down at the bump that seemed more noticable in a seated position. She knew for sure that her child would possess its father's strong will, remaining oblivious to the fact that it was a trait she shared with her husband. The bond between mother and unborn child had grown considerably. She was aware that it was a little early for her baby to be able to hear her voice but that did not stop her from talking to her bump on sleepless nights. She would talk of old times, of the friends that were at peace. Not once did she mention the man responsible for all of the pain in her life and the ten years she lost trying to bring him to justice. The memories were still too painful and stirred within her a powerful rage that she did not wish to expose her child to.

"Jill?" Claire spoke softly, reaching out to touch her arm and gasping when she flinched at her touch. "What's wrong? You just...you're not all here, are you?"

In any other situation, at any other time, Claire's words would have been offensive but Jill welcomed them as a sign of understanding; she had picked up on something not being right and addressed it in the only manner she knew how to.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I-"

"Talk," Claire instructed, a fierce determination set in her eyes. "I'm not giving you an option here."

The commanding tone of her voice shook Jill up and she found her eyes locked in a caring yet almost psychotic gaze. Claire's order set off the distant voice within her that screamed with a tenacious defiance of the self-doubt that lingered in her mind. She did not know if she wanted to believe that she was capable of actively participating in her recovery or that she simply was past the point of caring. Whatever it was, it was enough to force her lips to part and a single name to slip past them.

"Wesker," she whispered, quietly enough that Claire had to lean closer to understand what she was saying.

Claire simply nodded in understanding, her eyes not once moving as they implored her to continue.

"I-" Jill began, the words seemingly physically incapable of leaving her. It was as though every cell in her body was against her confessing even the smallest truth yet the voice urged her on, telling her that the time to come clean was now. "I'm just so fucking _angry_."

The words came in a short rush of emotion and she was left with the feeling of being open and vulnerable, like a wound that had yet to be dressed.

"That's natural," Claire assured her in a low, soothing voice. "He killed your friends, set you up and then he kidnapped you for two years! I don't know what happened to you during that time but I know that anger is justified at this point."

"No," Jill panted. Her eyes closed as she struggled to deal with the emotions that seemed to be pressing against her threshold, desperate to escape through the small incision she had made in the walls that had been thrown up around her many weeks ago. She knew that she could stop now, could seal the break before she ended up baring her soul, but she knew that it would not be in the best interests of her _or_ her child.

"I've never felt anger like this," she admitted. "I've always been calm and rational, but- Oh God, when I think about what I did to Chris, I just..."

For a brief moment, her stubborness won over and the fragile link between her heart and her vocal cords was severed momentarily. The guilt that had been niggling at her conscience for so long suddenly broke free and enveloped her with its icy wrath. Claire knew that her actions were not her own but could see how her friend took it to heart as though it were the crime of the century.

"I can't talk to him," Jill continued with determination, seemingly intent on releasing all that she could before her heart froze up once again. "I can't tell him what I did because I know he won't be able to understand. He'll hate me."

Beneath the long blonde hair, Claire could see moisture on her flushed cheeks and an expression of anguish the likes of which she had not seen before. It became evident to her that the conversation had transcended simple friendly banter and the food court no longer provided them with an appropriate venue for such an exchange.

"Come on," she spoke as she pushed herself to her feet and offered Jill a hand. "My car is just outside. If you are going to talk, we can talk there."

When Jill's eyes snapped up to meet hers again she could see that the tears had not been abundant and realised that she was not in an as broken state as she had initially assumed. Her sudden confession therefore shocked her more than it had before.

"I don't know if I should-" Jill began before Claire yanked her to her feet almost forcefully.

"Jill, you can't keep all of this inside!" Claire whispered through gritted teeth. "I told you that I would listen and you know that I won't breathe a word of this to Chris, even if I think it's the right thing to do."

Jill nodded slowly but surely, biting on her bottom lip as she wiped away the remaining water on her cheeks. After weeks of Chris's gentle insistance, Claire's forceful demand had tackled her problem at an angle she had left undefended. She knew what to expect from Chris but this...this was knew. She was almost afraid and did not know how to respond to this emotion. There were no arms to fall in to and Claire made it strikingly clear with her body language that any comfort must be earned through confession. It was a reward system the likes of which she had never experienced before.

Suddenly the solution was clear and Jill swallowed her doubts in one quick motion, ignoring the screams of protest that seemed to be emanating from every organ south of her brain.

"Thank you," she whispered simply and Claire understood her decision.

They left the food court behind, the empty salad tray and soda can remaining unmoved on the table they had recently occupied. Barely a few seconds passed before their seats were filled and more feet shuffled without a purpose through the space they vacated.

* * *

The television buzzed in the background but Chris paid no attention to the shapes that moved around on the screen. Even the sounds seemed to meld together into nonsense. The sudden lapse of concentration did not annoy him as it had previously, having become too familiar to elicit a response other than a resignated sigh. His mind and his heart were in so many different places lately that he no longer knew where to look for them.

It had been weeks since he was roused from his sleep by his wife's terrified scream and denied a night of rest due to the worry that followed. She had not suffered a nightmare as bad in weeks and had slept through almost every night since then without disturbance but it still preyed on his conscience in a stealthy manner. It was all he could do to not reveal his troubles in front of Jill. She had enough on her plate without having to worry about him, too.

He reached for the remote control and forcibly pushed the power button and his world was once again plunged into a comfortable silence. Elbows rested almost painfully on his knees as he allowed his head to sink into his hands, cursing the anger that enveloped him. It was a fierce, persistant anger that he had been unable to shake and he knew that there was not a damn thing he could do to alleviate it.

'He's dead and the bastard still manages to fuck with us.'

The anger swelled within him and had his fingernails been long enough he was sure that they would have drawn blood from the palms of his hands as they clenched into fists.

There was a time when he had almost considered Albert Wesker a friend. They would exchange cards on birthdays and at Christmas, would even joke about Chief Irons in an amicable manner. How was he to know that beneath those sunglasses and the professional demeanor lay an evil so potent it would haunt him for the next eleven years of his life? It was enough to make him doubt that they would ever be free of their nemesis. It was obvious that he boasted the kind of evil that transcended even death, living on in the minds of its victims like a cancer, corroding and decaying until there was nothing left.

At this realisation, Chris pursed his lips to hold back his emotions, acknowledging the depth of the imprint it had left on his wife. Jill had never feared Wesker, not even when she was staring down the barrel of his firearm. She recognised him as a dangerous threat that needed to be exterminated but the extent of her emotional involvement with the tyrant was limited to revenge. After her return from Africa, however, he could see that there was more to it than that now. She had never truly been a victim until her capture and he could sense that all their dealings with their former captain could not prepare her for the true extent of his malicious intent. Chris had not experienced that side of Wesker first hand and he knew that he could not hope to understand it the way Jill could.

He only wished that she would not shoulder such a burden alone. Whether or not he was capable of understanding it from her persepctive, he knew that he would do his damned best to try to understand it at least enough to be able to help her deal with it.

It was moments like these that made him wonder why he gave up smoking.

Embracing a sudden idea, he pushed himself up from the sofa and began to walk towards the cabinet where Jill had carefully arranged the china they had received as a wedding gift from the Burtons. They had yet to be presented with an occasion to use it, preferring the cheaper plates they kept stashed in a kitchen cupboard for their daily meals.

Once he found himself in front of the cabinet he ignored the gleaming gifts that were hidden behind polished glass and lowered himself onto one knee. The bottom portion of the cabinet was never locked; they never had any reason to. It was strange that as he reached in for the half-drained bottle of whiskey he knew would be in there the thought occured to him that they should either make an attempt to find the key for those small doors or move their alcohol stash before their child became old enough to think it would be a good idea to crawl inside and drink what it found. He smiled at the realisation that he seemed to have naturally switched in to 'father mode' without actively thinking about it.

This small heartwarming thought did not distract him from reaching for the bottle of good old No. 7 that he had been working his way through over the past couple of months. He had not touched the whiskey in quite a while so it did not disturb him that he thought it to be the only solution to his problem at that time. It was as he pulled the bottle towards him that he noticed a small box that had almost been hidden in the depths of the cabinet.

Curiosity overcame him and he reached towards it, surprised by the lightness of an object that was obviously capable of holding a lot. It appeared to be a jewellry box and from what he could tell it was quite old. A pattern was carved into the varnished wood and though it was slightly worn he could see that it was inteded to form the shape of a tree with leaves falling around its roots. An amused smirk played on his lips as he entertained the notion of it being some ancient object that carried a great secret within, like some cheap horror story. As he tugged gently on the engraved lid he realised that it had been firmly locked.

His eyebrows raised skyward as he tilted it back to inspect the keyhole as he considered rushing for Jill's lockpicking kit and attempting to force it open. It was then that he noticed smaller engravings around the keyhole, and a name that he did not recognise upon first reading it.

_'M. Ward'_

"Ward?" he spoke aloud, testing the name with his tongue as he tried to determine where exactly he had heard it before. The realisation dawned on him slowly and forcing the lock was no longer an option for him. Ward was the maiden name of his mother in law.

'Man, this must be old,' he thought as he pushed it carefully to the back of the cupboard. He now knew why Jill had hidden it somewhere so secret.

In an attempt to deny any memory of ever having touched such a precious item, he grabbed his whiskey and gently nudged the door shut with his knee as he stood. He could not pour a glass for himself quick enough and relished the feel of the liquid hot against his throat as he knocked it back.

His reflection in the flawless glass caught his eye and he was ashamed to see dark shadows beneath his eyes. Even though he promised Jill that he would do his best to not wear himself down he often found himself simply gazing at her features for hours at night, overjoyed with the peaceful expression that she wore through dreamless sleep.

'Wesker,' he fumed inwardly yet again, knowing that the nightmare his lingering presence in her mind had forced upon her had contributed to his sleepless nights. It seemed to be the horror of what Wesker had done to _him_ that had sent her over the edge. He knew that had their situation been reversed the knowledge would have torn him apart from the inside. He knew that this situation was more than likely as it was always _her_ that Wesker seemed to hurt. Wesker's vendetta had been against both of them but he had known Chris well enough to realise that he was deeply and irrevocably in love with his partner and used this against him as often as he could. Jill was a closed book to many, revealing only what she wanted to those she trusted, so Wesker did not realise that she returned his feelings until they were plummeting down a cliff face towards almost certain death.

Brown liquid flowed from the neck of the bottle in Chris's hand as he filled a second glass, his mind drifting back to a moment that he could not erase from his memory even after all these years.

_His boots did not slide as they should against the cold metal floor, allowing him to pick up the pace as he bounded from room to room, hoping to God that Rebecca and Barry had listened to him and were already on the heliport. He still could not believe that he was stupid enough to leave them and venture off alone into an area he knew was crawling with the undead._

_He hastily turned a corner, raising his weapon and taking aim before the scientist sensed his presence. As he sent a well-aimed bullet towards the monstrosity it let out a pitiful moan, as though it sensed its demise before the impact. It fell to its knees as blood and mangled tissue flew from the neat wound, staining its already soiled lab coat. Chris flinched at the devestation. He much preferred the creatures they had faced in the mansion; the blood almost dried up, no live tissue left to make such an unholy mess._

_'At least these poor bastards don't smell as bad.'_

_He did not look down as he stepped over the corpse and continued through the lab. Another distinction that these 'fresher' zombies boasted was that their identity was still intact. The others had been dried up, skeletons with a thin veil of muscle and skin. They were faceless, all distinguishing features having been worn away. These...these were still _human_. Eyebrows, scars, even acne. __It made it harder for him to place blame on the scientists for the experiements that put them in this predicament in the first place. He did not see evil, all he saw were victims._

_  
"Jill?" he shouted, his mind returning to the task at hand. 'Damn it, where the hell is she?'_

_Footsteps could be heard as he jogged into the next corridor and checked his route before continuing forward. A voice seemed to pick up on the footsteps that echoed around him and the ones he had been following ceased, the voice also fading into nothing._

_Light emanated from a door several feet infront of him and to the right and he pressed himself against the wall, gripping the handle of his gun with sweating hands. His eyes were closed as he cursed himself yet again for his stupidity. S.T.A.R.S. had always been proud followers of the 'leave no man behind' rule but even so, this situation was too dangerous and had he been following orders he knew he would have been forced to retreat and give his partner up for dead. He did not know if it was his loyalty to the team or his inappropriate feelings for his partner that had driven him to following her. After all, she had very almost given her own life to ensure that they could escape. Had he caught on to her intentions in time, he would have forced her into rethinking her strategy but he knew for a fact that they would all be dead had it not been for her. He could still recall her lithe form sprinting away from them, two mutated messes of flesh and claws hot on her heels. All he could do was bang on the window of the observation room he was locked inside and wait for the timer she had set to wind down to zero before he could break free and follow her. What awaited him was a sealed room in which the clawed monstrosities appeared to have been locked. There was no sign of Jill but also no sign that she had been torn apart by them. It was enough to give him hope that she was still alive. He did not care if Rebecca and Barry thought that he was crazy. They had found a way out and he sure as hell wasn't going to leave her behind._

_With one last, deep breath, he turned into the room, arms outstretched as he trained his gun on a console at the far end of the room._

_It was not the emptiness of the room that unnerved him, though a deeper fear than what had kept him prisoner all night seeped into his soul with an icy breath. He could not count how many tubes were erected within the room but they all seemed to contain the same horrific apparitions. They were not human, though he was sure they may have been at one point. A leg or twisted hand would give away their origins but for the most part they appeared to be a still mass of flesh and veins not dissimilar from a malformed chrysalis._

_Before the horror of the sight before him sunk in completely, he heard a faint shuffle from behind a row of tubes near the console._

_"Jill?" he asked cautiously, moving forward with small, light steps. "Is that you?"_

_A foot appeared from behind the last tube on the row; a black boot and what appeared to be blue combat trousers. Chris lowered his gun as relief settled over him and he dashed forward eagerly, ready to berate his partner for her reckless actions._

_As her body came into view he instinctively raised his weapon again, rage settling into his blood as he took in the arm that held her to a familiar form and the hand that pressed a Samurai Edge under the side of her jaw._

_"Drop your weapon, Chris," Wesker instructed as he expended minimal effort restraining Jill. Chris did not oblige and remained resolute with his handgun aimed at his Captain, not wanting to believe what he was seeing but reacting as he knew he should._

_His eyes met Jill's in a brief moment and she seemed to plead with him, her bloodstained lips parting enough to let out a startled cry. A bruise had begun to form on her cheekbone, a small gash on the tip of her eyebrow suggesting that a forceful blow had recently been landed there. Chris had never known an anger the likes of which screamed through him at that moment. He had to restrain himself and keep his finger away from the trigger, knowing that Wesker would be able to kill her before the bullet impacted._

_"Did you not hear what I said?" Wesker asked menacingly, drawing a pained gasp from Jill as he forced the gun further against her jaw. "I had no problem putting a bullet in Marini, don't think that I will hesitate to blow Valentine's brains across this lab. Now put your weapon down. That's an _order_."_

_Chris's grip faltered as he looked to Jill once again. Despite her restricted movement she managed to shake her head in a slight movement, lips mouthing a silent request to ignore his 'order'. He decided his action in a heartbeat. The gun clattered to the floor and he hastily kicked it towards them, hands raised high in the air. Wesker smirked at this action and had obviously anticipated it._

_"Good boy," he rewarded before roughly pushing Jill away._

_Chris barely caught her as she stumbled forward and landed in his arms. Despite the gravity of their situation, he could not ignore the lack of distance between them. His hand rested snugly in the curve of her waist, where it had landed as he reached to catch her as she fell. As the contours of her body began to feel so real beneath his touch he realised that there was nothing he could do now to ever touch them in a more appropriate situation; they were both dead for sure. His anger suddenly directed away from Wesker and was aimed instead at himself. He did not know what was worse: dying at the hands of a man they had trusted for so long or dying without letting her know how he felt. He did not know if she would return his feelings but he cursed himself for allowing the opportunity to find out to pass him by._

_Her hands wrapped around his biceps as she pulled herself up and her warm breath could be felt against his lips. They were so close he could have kissed her had he wanted to. Instead, he watched as her eyebrows raised slightly and a look of defeat and disappointment settled in her deep blue eyes._

_"You stupid bastard," she muttered, pulling away from him as soon as she had regained her balance. The insult was nothing as he saw her expression turn grim and realised the true extent of what he had just done. She knew what Wesker was going to do and he had blown the one opportunity he had to stop him. In that harrowing moment, it all made sense. Wesker was the traitor; he had planned this from the beginning, lured them to the mansion for a purpose Chris had yet to determine._

_Images of Forest's mangled corpse returned to him and he felt the sudden urge to charge at their captain with unbridled rage._

_"He used us," Jill spoke, voicing his thoughts as they came to him. "All of us, he... He planned it all from the start."_

A loud bang shook him from his thoughts as the front door slammed shut behind him. A quick curse signalled that this was unintentional and Jill threw her handbag onto the table as she ignored the scene she had made and strolled up to her husband.

The dim light that shone down on them illuminated her features and displayed the absence of the mascara he had witnessed her paint carefully onto her eyelashes that morning. He knew that Jill never was one for wearing an abundance of make up when the occasion did not call for it so he did not think much of this detail.

"Did you have fun?" Chris asked, his throat dry from the warm liquid he had been drinking. Jill simply threw him a haunted smile and reached up to pull his head down to hers so that she could gently kiss him on the lips. He could not taste her beyond the deep maple tint that the whiskey had left behind but it did not make the kiss any less sweet. The beverage had seared the inside of his mouth, leaving his nerves sensitive and his senses heightened. Her teeth grazed his upper lip as she smiled into the kiss and she added to the sensation by running the tip of her tongue along the underside of the same lip before slowly pulling away.

"Always with the Jack's, huh?" she commented as she leaned into him, resting her arms on his chest.

His arms remained by his sides, bent with his hands resting flat on the protruding surface of the china cabinet. Thoughts lingered on the precipice of his consciousness and he could do nothing to shake them away, nothing to try to forget them for the sake of giving his wife the welcome she had obviously expected from him.

"Are you alright?" she asked upon noticing the empty tumbler by his wrist. A few solitary drops of amber liquid remained in the glass and the strength of the smell on his breath told her that it had not been his only glass. "I remember you used to drink whiskey after a difficult assignment. Always when you thought I wasn't looking."

Her words drove guilt into the pit of his stomach and he found his arm finally moving around her as it should have done the moment she moved close enough.

"I've just had a bad day," he lied without catching her gaze. Her felt her sigh against his chest and realised how futile it was to try to deceive her; she always saw right through him.

"How can you expect me to be honest with you if you won't grant me the same courtesy?" Her voice was strong and resolute and caught him off-guard. It was a remnant of the side of her that had been fighting to break free for so long.

He considered for a moment coming clean, confessing the truth to her. It seemed too inappropriate when he thought of it in realistic terms; he had no right to speak of his feelings on an issue that affected_ her_. How could he tell her that he harboured a deep and unrelenting hatred for a man who had put her through hell when even she would not admit to such a thing. He could not understand what she had went through, could not even begin to comprehend the extent of her suffering and the claim that he was angry at this man for a reason as trivial as her reaction to this torture had left him heartbroken? He was not the one to suffer, he had no right to be angry.

"It's Wesker, isn't it?" she sighed, seemingly reading his mind. "Only he could leave a man like you speechless and hurt."

She pulled away from him and took a step back, allowing him enough room to breathe as he mulled over his thoughts. A sadness was evident behind her eyes as she silently implored him to speak. It was the same expression she had worn when in Wesker's arms, trying to convey the message that her life was the least important factor at that moment in time.

Strangely enough, it was this one expression that caused Chris's last restraint to break.

"If I could blow the bastard to pieces again I'd do it," he admitted in a low snarl that neither of them was expecting. "He put us through enough hell when he was alive and now that he's gone he's proving to be a bigger pain in the ass than before."

Jill made no attempts to interrupt with her thoughts and acted as he had through her endless rants; calm and quiet, listening intently to every word. It was obvious that he was on the beginning of a roll and she did not want to stop him from venting his anger as he so obviously needed to do. It only worried her that he was so close to their expensive plates in a state such as this.

"He has messed with everything that has ever meant anything to me," he continued as he stepped closer to his wife. "The guys, Barry, Rebecca, Claire...and now you. You were the one person I never needed to protect, Jill. Hell, you'd bust my ass every time I tried. Turned out that in the end you were the one person I didn't do enough for, you were the one who had to pay the highest price."

There was more on his mind, more words ready to fall off the tip of his tongue but when her head dropped into a bow and the arms she had crossed across her chest tensed up he knew that he had already said too much.

"God, Jill, I'm sorry," he apologised. To his surprise, she pushed away the arms he offered as comfort and stepped back once again.

"Don't be," she insisted. "Chris, you did more than enough for me. It was my own stupid actions that led me to Africa. What I- What I went through was nothing short of hell but I don't regret what I did...I don't regret saving you."

Chris honestly did not know how to respond to this admission. He was touched, that much was expected, but the information left him reeling from the sheer emotional impact. Had it been anyone else whose life was in danger would she still hold this view?

"Jill, what happened to you?" he asked, seizing the opportunity to probe further into her problems. "Please, you don't have to keep living this hell."

Her mind raced frantically as she tried to piece together a response. Her wounds were still open from her earlier 'discussion' with Claire, festering sores she was sure Chris was able to see. Opening up to Claire had been no easy feat and from her friend's reaction she could tell that opening up to Chris would be a thousand times harder. She could still remember Claire's devastated expression as she asked for some time to process the information and proceeded to leave the car, returning an hour later with re-applied eyeliner and a smile that did not reach her eyes. Jill wondered if the girl would ever be able to look at her in the same way again.

Claire's insitance that her offer of a shoulder to cry on was still open showed Jill that she was willing to deal with the emotional upheaval that she had willingly subjected herself to. It was not the revelation of what she had been subjected to during her captivity that had all but cut through the heartstrings of the younger girl; it was the discovery of what she had been forced to do and how she had gradually retreated into her captive mind, committing a slow and painful mental suicide simply to block the terror of what she witnessed. Claire had always seen Jill as the others had; as a strong, passionate woman with heart of gold and will of pure steel. The knowledge that the woman she had looked up to for so many years had broken under the pressure of such harsh psychological torture shattered all that she had previously believed. She had known that she was still suffering but was so sure that it was nothing she couldn't deal with with ease.

Would Chris take the information to heart as his sister had? Would it be worse due to his emotional attachment to her? After all, the information she had told Claire was the basic gist of what happened...neither of them had to time to discuss every gory detail. If she opened up to Chris she knew it had to be completely.

Jill wasn't sure that she wanted to find out but knew that she could not keep holding back, not if she wanted to have her emotions in check by the time the stress of looking after a newborn baby was added to her concerns.

The period of extended silence that had fallen between them once again gave Chris the wrong impression and he sighed as he led her over to the sofa. It seemed as though his consideration were almost automatic and she was glad for the comfort that the soft cushions provided.

"What is the greatest physical pain you have experienced?" she asked out of the blue. Confusion settled in as he tried to understand where she was going with this seemingly absurd question. Despite this, he chose to humor her and thought carefully about it.

"There have been so many times," he sighed. "But I would have to say appendicitis. Then again, I was sixteen at the time and you know how teenagers overreact about everything."

Jill tried to laugh but at that moment she did not possess the emotional capability of doing so.

"Why do you ask?" he pressed when she did not comment. He noticed how her hands began to shake and her breaths became short and rattling. She seemed almost tired, as though being forced to repeat something painful several times over.

"The device on my chest," she spoke quietly. "It...it had to be attached via a surgical procedure. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I had barely been out of the tube for an hour when I was dragged out of my cell. Wesker sent two of his guards and I put up one hell of a fight. Enough of one to warrant a visit from Wesker when they were unable to escort me to him. He told me that he had doctors waiting, that I needed some kind of surgery. I knew he was bullshitting so I told him what he could do with his surgery. So he came clean, told me that he had something new in store for me. Then he tried to drag me out of the cell himself. I don't know what made me think I stood a chance against him, but I fought so damn hard to get away. Broke his glasses, and his nose. Stupid mistake..."

She drew a deep breathe before she continued and Chris moved a hand to still hers, his fingers wrapping around it as he relished the warmth beneath his skin.

"He landed a punch hard enough to daze me," she explained. "You know that his punches are like being hit by a car, I could barely see. Next thing I knew, I was in front of a surgical table. Wesker gloated about needing to cut open my chest. He never mentioned that he only needed to make small incisions and the surgery would be performed keyhole. I was terrified, I thought he was going to turn me into another Tyrant. Then he...he said that I needed to learn that resistance wouldn't be tolerated. He said that I had lost my right to anaesthetic. I don't know how they got me onto that table but as soon as I was locked in I was sedated. I was still aware but could barely move. I was...I was still awake when they started cutting into me. It felt like hours before I finally passed out from the pain, but..."

Her speech was interrupted not by a cry, but by a breath that shook terribly. Chris did not know how to respond; how could he? A pain deep within his chest stole his ability to speak and left him too emotionally crippled to accept the anger he knew he should have felt at that moment. A few long moments passed before he realised that she was flinching from the pressure he was placing on her hand.

"Jill," he finally breathed, noticing how she continued to avoid meeting his eyes. He removed his hand from hers but it paused mid-air as he moved to place it on her shoulder, the scars on her chest catching his eye for a brief moment. His throat closed up, his mouth running dry and his mind involuntarily conjured up images of the events she had described. The blood-curdling scream she had let loose as he pulled the device from her skin rang loud in his ears as he tried to drown them out with more pleasant thoughts. He could see her convulsing in her restraints, lips parted in agony, fingernails tearing the palms of her hands as-

The thoughts vanished, the scream dulling and fading into nothing. A single hand had been placed just above his knee and the long fingers he had squeezed so tightly a moment earlier returned the favour in a more reassuring manner. It suddenly occured to him that it was neither the time nor the place to allow his emotions to run free.

"Don't," Jill instructed as he moved to place an arm around her. "Don't touch me, don't say anything, just listen. Otherwise I won't be able to do this."

Chris nodded but she did not see this action. His arm settled by his side as her hand moved away and she began to speak once again.

He kept true to his word; he sat in silence as she confided in him, hiding the shock and pain that was brought to the surface by her harrowing revelations. Beneath this calm demeanor raged a fiery storm of emotions. If he had been in any doubt about what happened to her when she was presumed to be dead, he knew now that it was pure and simple torture. Wesker had known how strong and determined she was and was desperate to stamp out this quality for good. The simple fact that she was ploughing through such painful memories proved to him that it was yet another front on which Wesker had failed dreadfully. It only frustated him that she did not once speak of the guilt she had only briefly mentioned in the past or the actions she had been forced to carry out. It was obvious that the root of her problems lay in this area but she did not address it, remaining firmly in the pain _he _had inflicted on _her_. He recognised that he should not have expected to hear more than what he had asked for and was both grateful and happy that she was sharing so much.

"I can't keep these scars," she breathed, her voice hoarse from the words she had forced out, as she signalled to the blemishes on her chest. "Scars are...they are reminders of what we have done, of what was done to us to make us stronger. That device betrayed everything about me that I-"

She fell suddenly silent, aware that she was straying into territory that she was not yet ready to explore, not with Chris. Claire's reaction was still too clear in her mind and it pushed her further away from wanting to open up completely. There were things she had omitted from her confession to her sister in law and considering her reaction to what she _had_ been told, Jill accepted the fact that these details may never be displayed to anyone else. Claire knew the details but not the feelings that they envoked. Those demons were still locked safely away, some in her heart, others in the box beneath the china.

The dam, it seemed, was broken and she finally allowed Chris to hold her as tears of shame and utter degradation cascaded down her cheeks. She waited patiently for a response but he remained silent, simply holding her as she cried all of her emotions out. She had not felt a release so strong, not even when she relayed the same words to Claire.

"I'm sorry," Chris finally spoke. She could tell by his tone that he was sincere. "I knew that he hurt you but I didn't- I couldn't- Damn, I'm sorry we denied you revenge. I should have-"

"No!" she insisted, much to his surprise. She removed her head from his damp shoulder and held his eyes with an intensity that forced him to devote all of his attention to her words.

"Chris, I could have reached for the RPGs. Sheva wasn't paying attention, I could have reached for the weapons and it could have been _us_. But I didn't. I _couldn't_ kill him."

"If this is some fucked up version of Stolk-" he began, disgusted at the mere suggestion of such an act.

"It's not," she reassured him. "He put me through hell for two years, he... I hated him and I know that my hatred clouded my reasoning. I was angry, feral... If I had taken that RPG, if I had killed him, I know for a _fact_ that I would have enjoyed it. I was a cop and a soldier, Chris, I've killed people, but I have never derived pleasure from the act. The moment that happens, the moment I enjoy taking a life...I become no better than him. If I had killed him I would have turned into the monster he wanted me to be."

Her words were profound and the pain seemed to melt away from every part of his being. Pride filled the spaces that were left and he forcefully pulled her into a tight embrace.

He remembered the day he had met her, back in 1996. She was opinionated and passionate and when she spoke of something that was close to her heart there was nothing more beautiful to witness. It was a side he had seen in no other woman before her and it enthralled him in a way he did not expect. It was one of her many personality facets that had forced his feelings for her to evolve into something more than mere friendship. Even back then he would not have expected to hear such an admission. Over the years she had learned to restrain herself and the vengeance that fuelled both of them made them eagerly anticipate the day when their arch enemy and his empire would lie in ruins. After all that she had been through, she still managed to retain the rationality and morals to be able to pull off such an act with the grace he had come to expect from her.

"You can't let that bastard bring you down," Chris told her as he allowed her room to breathe. "I wish I knew how you're still even remotely intact after everything that happened. Jill, you're a lot stronger than you think you are. I know you can pull through this."

"Maybe," she sighed wistfully. "I always did have a high threshold for pain. I've just never had such difficulty in dealing with it."

Chris smoothed her hair back, tucking the long blonde strands behind her ears. She settled onto his chest once she found a position comfortable enough and allowed his hands to join hers on her ever-growing bump.

"For what it's worth," he began, unsure as to why he was about to confess such a detail. "Sometimes _I_ still have nightmares...about everything. The mansion, Antarctica, Kijuju...even the night you 'died'."

In reponse to this statement, Jill moved from her recently adopted position and turned to face him with a sympathetic expression.

"Spencer?" she clarified. "You know, you...you never really spoke about how you felt when I was gone. It can't have been easy?"

She left her sentence open-ended, encouraging him to talk about it but despite picking up on this he pulled her back into him and decided to play dumb.

"It wasn't," he said simply, hoping that it would be enough for her to drop the subject. Even the early days of their fight against Umbrella did not compare to the weeks following her fall. Six months' leave from the BSAA had not been enough to allow him to sufficiently recover. If honesty was an issue, he would admit that he never thought that he would recover. It was not a chapter of his life he was desperate to return to and he sure as hell did not want to share it with Jill, not when she was dealing with problems of her own.

Jill sensed his discomfort and chose to drop it. Perhaps when she was able to divulge her own guilty actions she could use it as a bargaining chip?

She accepted that it would be difficult for him to open up at such a time; it was not in his nature to put more weight onto an already crippling problem. With the impending arrival of their child they both knew that it would not be a wise thing to do.

Instead of probing a difficult topic, she simply settled in his arms and breathed in the first true scent of freedom she had felt in months.

**AN - Please review :).**


	11. Tears Don't Fall

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN -** I feel the need to apologise for the length of this chapter. I tried splitting it up but it just didn't feel right, I even tried cutting parts of it out but there was nothing that I deemed expendable, really. It's one of the most important chapters and I had a lot to get through. I actually applaud and bow down to anyone who can get through this beast in one sitting, lol. I promise that the next chapter won't be as painfully long but it's a busy fortnight for me so I might be a little late on the update. I'll try and make it worth it :). On the bright side, this story is now officially the longest story I have posted on FFN! Chapter title is from a song by Bullet For My Valentine.  
I would like to thank Ryoko Metallium for an idea she gave me that really helped with this chapter. Thank you!

I also want to thank all my reviewers...**Ryoko Metallium, Devil Rebel, JILLsandwiches101, Captain Fox McCloud, Alpha Pepper, Tek, Ultimolu, Tiger Snaps, C. Redfield 86, Smash King24, Keybladem, Sparkle Valentine, Aleu The Lunar Wolf, Lemon Turkey, Kenshin 13 **and **Rugbyfan.** I don't know what to say that I haven't already said, other than thank you, thank you, thank you!

_**Chapter Ten - **Tears Don't Fall_

_"There's always something different going wrong. The path I walk is in the wrong direction."_

Chris could not remember the last time he had sat at the breakfast table in the clothes he had slept in. Mornings were always too hectic to relax and he barely had time to breathe as he would leap out of bed, into the shower then straight into the car and be on his way to work before Jill realised that he had even moved. It was nice to relax every once in a while but that morning relaxation felt like the furthest concept from his mind.

Every little detail was an annoyance. The freshly cut flowers he had brought home the day before emitted an odour that churned his insides, the distant voices outside were too loud, even his own head seemed too heavy to support. With a useless sigh he allowed his head to fall harshly onto the table. The toaster spat his crude breakfast into the air but he could not find the energy to retrieve it.

Mentally, he cursed Travis for letting him drink so much.

The only sound that could rouse him from his self-pity were the footsteps that shuffled slowly down the staircase. His eyes could not focus enough to provide him with a clear image but he still found himself groaning at the figure that plodded towards where he sat.

"You think you could walk a little quieter?" he moaned as his head fell back to the table.

"A little _quieter_?" Jill fumed, deliberately raising her voice and stepping towards him. "Have you _seen_ the size of me lately? I physically can't _do_ quiet! For the record, I have no sympathy for you."

"Could you at least pass my toast over?"

She groaned in mock-annoyance but he knew that she would oblige. Sure enough, the deafening scrape of a knife over the charred bread grated on his nerves and a few seconds later the freshly buttered toast was placed carefully next to his head along with a large glass of water.

"I didn't wake you last night, did I?" he asked. He could not for the life of him remember when or how he had stumbled home the previous night. The only memories that dared show themselves were of the growing pile of empty beer bottles and the drunken laughter of his poker buddies. The pain in his head had nothing on the guilt he felt, knowing that he would have likely made a lot of noise and roused his hormonally grouchy wife from her much-needed sleep.

"Actually, you didn't," she assured him as she lowered herself into a vacant chair and began to sip at a small glass of milk. "Junior was giving me a rough night again."

He noticed that she did not wear her pyjamas, dressed instead in a simple cotton maternity dress that he couldn't help but notice emphasised her slightly enlarged breasts. He shifted further over in his chair, pulling up close enough to place a hand on her impressive bump.

"Soccer player or kung fu expert?" he asked with a mouthful of toast. The sudden switch of focus seemed to dull his throbbing headache enough for him to register a sudden quick application of pressure against his hand. He smiled almost painfully and lost himself to the warmth that fell over him. It had been six weeks since Jill felt the first sign of movement but it never got old. Part of him still found it difficult to process the knowledge that he was a father to be, but moments like the one he was experiencing made the reality far clearer than his own thoughts ever could.

"Ah, that was a big one," Jill laughed, placing a hand over her husband's. "You know, I could swear they're stronger when you're around. Must be the sound of your voice."

Chris hummed with delightful interest before shovelling the last of his toast into his mouth and pulling his chair closer still to the two most important people in his life.

"We should probably start discussing names soon," he mused. It was a subject they had not even thought about, being far too caught up in making sure they knew all they possibly could about pregnancy, childbirth and what to expect. The nursery was coming along slowly but they had still failed to consider the most important detail: the name.

"I suppose," Jill agreed. "We can't call them Junior forever."

They both sat in silence, each one waiting patiently for the other to suggest something. When no words were spoken they both sighed simultaneously and laughed at their predicament.

"I'm sure we'll think of a good name," Jill promised. "We've still got a few months."

This revelation was as harrowing to Chris as it was reassuring. A few months gave them enough time to sort out their affairs before the focus of their lives switched but it also signalled how time was running out. Despite the huge leaps and bounds that they had made, Jill's condition was still nowhere near treated. She still possessed that painfully haunted look, still cried in her sleep and broke down when she thought he was not looking. For the most part she had succeeded in keeping her emotions in check but he could not help but wonder if she was merely bottling everything up and was not actually dealing with her feelings.

The progress they _had_ made was astounding and for the first time in so long he truly believed her smile. He was hopeful in a way he had never been before and prayed that she was not far away from fully opening up to him. He could see that her mind was in conflict and she would drift frequently between two states of mind, as though she would venture out of her dark world for a brief spell but then be dragged back down into the depths of despair. If he was ever in any doubt that she had not been completely honest with him, that doubt was eradicated with these mood changes.

He downed the remainder of his water in one go, relishing the moisture it provided to his parched insides. As he placed the empty glass onto the table and pushed himself to his feet he leaned forward to press a kiss onto Jill's forehead. He did not know why he performed this simple act but when he saw the reaction that it gained he smiled proudly.

"I thought you were hungover?" she asked through her earsplitting grin.

"Never too hungover for a kiss," he replied as he boldly placed another on her lips. "Think I'll go see if I can wash it off. Don't go anywhere."

"Like I could," he heard her scoff behind him. He couldn't help but smile a little as his feet hit the steps and carried him up to their ensuite bathroom.

The smile he had brought to her face lingered long after she heard the distant hiss of water begin. She found it difficult to move from her seat at first, remaining lost in the normality of the moment they had only just shared. It was a brief reminder that her life was somewhat getting back on track. It felt truly great to breathe without the feeling that every breath was decaying her lungs, to know how it felt to be loved so deeply and to understand that feeling completely. Thinking back, she found it hard to believe that she had ever been in such a state as that which she was in shortly after their honeymoon. She knew now that she was a broken woman and was thankful that she had a partner as caring and as understanding as Chris. It would have been so easy for him to walk away and not deal with the emotional baggage she was trailing around.

It was thoughts like these that still caused her to feel ashamed and unworthy. She could not ignore the pain that still ate at her consciouness, and she could not forget the actions that had left her with a guilt so deep and profound that she still felt shame when she looked Chris in the eye. Her 'episodes' were not as crippling as they once were but they still persisted. Despite her promise to allow him to help her deal with them she chose to leave the room when she felt the tears approach. She could not think of a way to let him help that did not involve letting him in on her antics whilst still a slave to Wesker. No, she was not ready to slay that demon just yet.

Her darkened thoughts killed the mood that Chris had left hanging in the air and with a frown she drained the rest of her milk and made her way to the sink, ignoring how her movement reflected her pregnancy. Chris had not yet made a 'waddling' joke but she knew that one was not far off. He would not dare tease his almost-due sister with such an observation but he knew that Jill was approaching her ever-changing physique with a much more light-hearted attitude than the fiery redhead.

"Thank God it's Sunday," she sighed in relief as she heaved herself back up into a standing position after placing the dirty glasses and plate into the dishwasher. Despite the fact that Sundays signalled the end of the weekend, Jill had come to enjoy them simply for the time they awarded her to spend with Chris. Lately, each other's company had been all they seemed to need on this usually dull day.

A quick flutter of discomfort appeared in the depths of her abdomen and she groaned at the sensation. It was not dissimilar from cramp but it was not a feeling she had experienced since the early stages of her pregnancy. In response, she braced herself against the counter and waited for the annoyance to pass.

From somewhere upstairs she heard the water shut off and found herself mentally urging Chris to hurry up and join her again. If there was one thing her pregnancy had told her it was that his hands were capable of chasing away even the most persistant aches and pains.

Another pang shot across the resting place of that unpleasant sensation, this time more harsh and drawn out than the first. Her mind raced a mile a minute and she tried her best to calm herself with the reassurance that it was just minor 'practice' contractions that she had read about in the many pregnancy books she had ploughed her way through. A third, more painful ripple flashed as she began to move towards the dining table and a fourth brought her to her knees, clutching at her abdomen in a vain attempt to alleviate the pain.

When a fifth followed several long seconds later, she knew that something was terribly wrong. By the time a sixth seized her she could feel moisture in the corner of her eyes. Her pelvis seemed host to a turbulent storm, a strain so powerful it caused her to bite into her lip. It was agony, pure and simple. She let out a pained cry as it became too much to bear, but when the realisation of what was happening sunk in the pain meant nothing compared to the fear that pierced her recently-thawed heart.

"Too early," she gasped, the tears now raining down in full force. "Please, God no..."

Her whole body convulsed from the pain and unwelcome memories returned, visions of masked figures hovering above her, a black form storming in her direction with a violent fury.

"Chris!" she screamed with every breath that was left in her. Her voice came out loud and strangled, tortured in a way her mind was not able to comprehend. Footsteps thudded down the staircase but she could not focus on the sound; the only thoughts that graced her consciousness were of the activity within her body and the very real possibility that her child was slipping away from her. The only solace that she was provided with was the fact that her white dress remained unblemished; if there was no blood the problem must not be that serious...right?

"Jill?" she heard Chris's voice call as the footsteps drew closer. "Jill! Are you okay?"

As he bent down to her level, she reached up and grasped the neck of his T-shirt before he could even touch her. His hands moved quickly to her shoulders, one moving up to cup her cheek and she could feel the tremors that seized him.

"Chris," she gasped. "Something's wrong, something-"

The pain eased a little before striking her again with full force and she doubled over, her movements restricted only by the fierce grip that Chris had on her. She could not move enough to look him in the eye but she could tell simply by his stance that her behaviour was frightening him as much as it was her.

"Just breathe," he urged with a voice as tremulous as her body. "Deep breaths."

The fingers of the hand that rested on her cheek slid beneath her jaw and gently tilted her head upwards. As her eyelids slowly slid open he could see that her eyes were bloodshot, drowned by the moisture that continued to seep from the corners. It was not only pain that he saw in her eyes; he recognised the fear and knew that this was no minor complication.

"Can you walk?" he asked, to which she replied with an uncertain nod. "Okay, listen to me. I'm going to take you to the hospital and we're going to find out what's wrong. You need to keep breathing and just stay calm, okay? You're going to be alright. The baby's fine."

He was amazed with how calm and composed he managed to seem, despite the chaos that swirled within him. The soldier within kicked into action and all he could see was a solution and means to get there; emotions were set aside for the sake of completing the task at hand. All he was focused on was relieving her pain and he knew that getting himself worked up would only prevent him from being able to sensibly drive her to the hospital.

She did not bother to reply to his instructions and simply grabbed onto him in an attempt to haul her heavy form to her feet. It was no easy feat for her but fortunately Chris's muscle mass proved more than enough to pull her upright. With an arm rightly around her waist he reached for the keys to their car and began hurrying her out of the door.

* * *

For once the hospital was not submerged in the stench of cleaning fluids, nor was it host to the other tear-inducing odours that often permeated its hallways. Despite the fresh appearance of the corridors and the light that filtered in through the many windows, there had never been a darker setting to Chris at that moment. The door that seperated him from his wife seemed thicker than mere pine, more impermeable than was intended. He wanted nothing more than to burst through the barrier and hold her hand but the nurse's insistance that he remained outside until the tests were complete was enough to keep him rooted to the spot in fear of exacerbating the situation.

No sooner had they burst through the doors of the gyneocology and obstetrics department, they found themselves being rushed through to a private examination room by several concerned members of staff. It pleased him that it only took a few brief words describing their situation to alert the staff to the problem. No messing about, no mistakes. Despite this professonalism, it annoyed him that he had not received a single answer since stepping through those doors.

His fingers scraped the thin layer of stubble he had not had the time to shave off that morning as he glanced up at a plastic clock on the wall above the door and realised that they had arrived in the hospital barely twenty minutes ago. A fragmented groan escaped him as impatience settled in. It was amazing what worry could do to ease a hangover. He barely registered the door that opened for a few short seconds but the closing slam drew his attention to a female doctor that smiled sympathetically at him.

"Mr. Redfield?" she asked quietly. "I am Dr. Young. Your wife's midwife is absent in today so I am dealing with her case. Is it okay if we talk somewhere a little quieter?"

Chris nodded hastily, desperate for the answer she silently promised to provide. Without caring where she was leading him, he followed and found himself in a small room furnished only by a few comfortable chairs and a table. The morbidity of the setting did nothing to ease his worry; this was obviously a room designed for one-on-one talks the likes of which were never good.

Dr. Young signalled for him to take a seat and he did just that, his eyes glued to the folder that she carried beneath her arm.

"Is she alright?" he asked, unable to tolerate the silence any longer.

The doctor turned her attention to him and smiled unconvincingly as she placed the folder across her knee and turned the first page.

"Please, be honest," he begged, sensing a certain reluctance.

"Your wife is fine," she assured him. "A little shaken up but nothing serious. As of yet we have not determined the reason, but the pains she has been experiencing are likely to be contractions."

It was a simple word, one he was not unfamiliar with through his preparations for fatherhood. Had the situation not been so dire, he would have been amazed that such a simple word could instill such fear into the heart of a man who had spent the last ten years of his life living a nightmare.

"Contractions?" he repeated, hoping that he had heard incorrectly. "But she's only twenty-four weeks!"

Dr. Young looked down onto her file as though it provided a more satisfying answer than the one she had to offer.

"During pregnancy, most women experience what are known as Braxton-Hicks contractions," she explained. "They are often referred to as 'practice' contractions and they are completely natural and pose no threat to mother or baby. We are proceeding with the hope that this is the reason for your wife's pain but due to the severity of the contractions we must consider more serious situations. Your wife told us that she has been under a lot of stress lately and this, along with other factors, leads us to believe that she could be in premature labour."

The words made no sense to Chris. He had heard of Braxton-Hicks contractions but the descriptions he had read sounded a million miles away from what he had witnessed in their kitchen. No 'minor discomfort' could bring her to her knees the way he had witnessed, no 'natural occurance' could force upon her tears so desperate.

"If- if it _is_ premature labour, what does that mean?" he asked, knowing that he did not truly wish to hear the answer to this question. His fears were reinforced as the doctor sighed before staring resolutely in his direction, as though prepping herself for revealing painful information.

"There are measures we can take to stop the contractions," she explained. "But these measures are not infallible and there is a chance that we will be unsuccessful. If that is the case, we will be forced to deliver."

"Deliver? But she's barely into her third trimester!"

"A fetus has roughly a forty per cent chance of surviving if delivered at twenty-four weeks," Dr. Young sighed. Chris could see that revealing this information affected her as much as it affected Chris to hear it. As inapproriate as he thought it, it brought a certain sense of reassurance to the mess of emotions that flurried within him; she empathised with them. "The child will be rushed to our neonatal unit and will be under intensive care possibly for months. However, statistics show that a child born at such an early stage is not likely to survive. _If_, and I must stress that word, the worst scenario becomes reality it is likely that the child will not survive."

The information was too much to process and Chris brought his hands to his face to hide the anguish that he knew was now physically evident. He always was optimistic but after everything they had been through he came to realise that the worst scenario was also the most likely. The ghost of Wesker seemed unwilling to relinquish its death-like grip on their lives and he knew that stealing their child from them would be the last act needed to throw them both over the edge and into a fiery abyss from which there was no returning.

"As harsh as this reality is, I am only informing you of it because I have a duty to," the doctor reassured. "Your wife does seem to be under a lot of stress and I am sure that this is making her problem seem far worse than what it is. I have faith in the best case scenario and you should, too."

Chris's shoulders slumped as he realised that this opinion was not exactly professional. Professional or not, it reassured him enough to speak again.

"Can I see her?" he asked.

"I don't see why not," Dr. Young smiled. "The tests should be completed by now and I'm sure she would appreciate your company. I should also mention that we took the liberty of conducting routine third-trimester tests while she was here. These will likely by the last tests she has to undergo before the birth."

Chris nodded in appreciation and thanked the doctor as she led him back outside.

"If you or your wife have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask," she added with a smile. "For what it's worth, you did the right thing by bringing her here."

This assurance offered little consolation buy he flashed her a smile out of courtesy as she continued down the hallway, leaving him alone once again outside Jill's private room. His thoughts seemed so much louder in the silence, echoing off the walls of his mind and further driving the doctor's words home. As he pressed down on the door handle he realised that he could not fake the smile he knew would make her feel better.

There was no sound to greet him as he stepped inside, no movement at all. Jill lay peacefully on the cot, still clothed in the white maternity dress and above the drab hospital sheets. Her eyelids covered the striking eyes he could sense were filled with despair at that moment but she did not display any outward signs of such anguish. In fact, he had never seen her look so peaceful. Her blonde locks framed her head against the white pillows and her skin was flushed ever so slightly.

Chris could not move as he observed her, enjoying her momentary solace vicariously. He wished that he could provide her with the comfort she found only in sleep but accepted that it was impossible. Nothing could erase what Wesker had done; their only option was to learn to accept that and to overcome the devastation he had left in his wake.

She looked so beautiful, so fragile. He could not understand why anyone would want to hurt her. No matter how hard he tried he could not remove images of what she had described from his mind's eye; battered and broken after Wesker took his anger at another failed experiment out on her because she dared to fight his oppression. So fragile it seemed, yet so strong. Looks could be deceiving and such a truth had never been more apt than at that moment. Even in her weakened state she could still kill a man before he knew that he was under attack.

Slowly, one of her eyelids opened and the other followed suit a moment later. Her eyes were not bloodshot and they opened with such speed that he knew she had not actually been sleeping.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he took a seat in the chair beside her bed. She did not smile upon seeing him but she curled her fingers around that hand that found its way to hers.

"I'm not in pain anymore," she replied quietly. "If that's what you mean. It just seemed to fade out. I don't know if they did something, I wasn't really paying attention."

Chris sighed a deep sigh of relief and raised her hand to his lips for a brief moment.

"That's good," he breathed with a small laugh. He knew that no pain meant no contractions and no contractions meant no labour. It seemed, however, that Jill did not look on the situation with this much hope.

"I'm tired, Chris," she breathed as tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm sick and so fucking tired. I'm tired of dealing with some new problem every week, I'm tired of hitting a dead end every time I think I'm heading down the right path and I'm so damn tired of living in a cage. Nothing ever goes right for us, does it? It's always going to be this way, we're always going to be dealing with something, aren't we? Umbrella's gone, Wesker's dead and the viruses are almost eradicated. We're supposed to be _free_ but I'm falling apart, our marriage is under strain and now I feel like I'm losing the one thing that gives me hope."

Her words struck a chord within Chris's heart and he squeezed her hand tighter, understanding her point of view but not agreeing with it.

"No," he told her straight, his jaw set. "We're not going to lose this child."

"Why?" she demanded through her tears. "Because I'm _strong_? Because-"

"Because fate isn't that fucking cruel!" he spat, his control slipping for a brief moment. In that momentary lack of composure, Jill saw straight through to his heart and swallowed her words.

Shame settled in as she remembered that it was his child that she was carrying. She could see the worry etched into his expression, a troubled aura surrounding him as he dealt with the pain in his own way.

"I'm sorry," she gasped breathlessly, pulling his hand onto her stomach as she felt a reassuring kick. It brought a smile of relief to her face and her tears began to dry up.

"Don't be."

She smiled again and pretended that she knew she did not have reason to be sorry. She had taken so much from him already.

Before she could worry about voicing these thoughts, the door to her small, miserable room swung open again. Dr. Young stepped into the room quietly with the same folder tucked beneath her arm but this time she wore a smile that could only be described as genuine.

"How are you feeling?" she asked politely. Jill forced a smile and replied as honestly as she could without mentioning too many personal details.

The realisation that the doctor's presence would provide the answers they had been waiting for was enough to distract them both from their grim thoughts. A quick glance over at his troubled wife told Chris that the damage had already been done and he sank back into the chair in resignation. He did not mind talking her out of an emotional episode, it was witnessing her go through one that still proved painful to witness. With the pain of the threat of losing his unborn child still hanging over his head, he did not know how he would cope with her tears.

"Is everything alright?" Jill asked as she pushed herself upright, worry still evident in her voice.

"Everything is fine," Dr. Young assured her, smiling as they both breathed a deep sigh of blissful relief. "There is no evidence that suggest you are in labour. We are certain that the pains you were experiencing were Braxton-Hicks contractions, a fact reinforced by their natural cessation. While it is unusual for Braxton-Hicks contractions to be so painful it is not unheard of. I suggest not over-exerting yourself in the next few months and if they occur as painfully again, make an appointment with your doctor or regular midwife and they will be able to prescribe you with some form of pain relief. However, if you experience any of the symptoms I described earlier or if the contractions worry you in any way, come straight back here. If you have any questions, I would be more than happy to answer them. Otherwise, I see no reason why you can't go home."

Jill thanked the doctor in relief and watched her leave quietly. She did not have any questions that she did not already know the answer to and quite frankly could not wait to get out of there.

Chris allowed his head to fall into his hands, his arms shaking from the weight of the situation until he could bear it no longer. As though out of nowhere, a warm hand was placed on his shoulder and he immediately felt his muscles relax. His hands fell away, revealing a face that reflected the anguish within.

"I know what you're thinking," Jill whispered. "I- I don't know how many more of these hits I can take."

He nodded solemnly in understanding. Fate may not be cruel but it had a sick sense of humour and Chris was sure that somebody out there saw their predicament as one big joke. He had never been an overly religious man and it was situations such as theirs that made this so; he could not have faith in something that toyed with the lives of innocents as though they were little more than plastic figuirines. He had seen devastation and death and those who suffered were real people with real feelings; innocents caught up in events they had no control over. After everything Jill had done, after all she had dedicated to make the world a better place it seemed beyond unfair that she should have to suffer as she was. Still, he knew that the man who continued to torment them was the result of playing God and not an agent of fate.

Without exchanging another word they both left the room, pausing for a moment beside a large Elizabethan-style window to collect their scattered thoughts.

"You're going to rest," Chris spoke suddenly, stepping close to her as a hand moved to her waist. "I'll make sure of it."

He accompanied this last announcement with a daring smirk and suddenly the tension between them melted. Jill laughed quietly and closed the distance between them, relieved as his arms moved around her.

"Yes sir," she replied comically.

His lips pressed softly against her temple and she sighed at the realisation that she actually would have fallen apart without him. Despite his own worry he always remained strong around her and she knew that he would always be there to make her see the brighter side of any predicament. She enjoyed the comfort of this knowledge but looked forward to the day when she was once again able to do that herself.

Before she had time to react to her thoughts, his lips moved and captured hers in one swift movement. It occurred to her that it may not have been entirely appropriate for them to perform such an obvious display of affection in the middle of a hospital corridor but at that moment she just didn't give a damn. He seemed to know what she wanted and, as usual, gave it to ger in abundance. He was not too rough, nor too gentle and he waited for her silent signal before deepening the kiss. It was all he could to to suppress a moan as her fingers gripped the back of his T-shirt tightly, fingernails scraping his skin even through the thin cotton.

"Chris? Jill?"

A familiar voice snapped them from their moment of passion and Jill's face flushed a deep shade of crimson as she sheepishly turned to face her friend.

"Carlos?" Chris asked, surprised that the man would be anywhere near a hospital, let alone the obstetrics department.

Carlos remained silent for a moment or two, seemingly amazed by the sight he had witnessed mere seconds earlier. He seemed torn between laughing and stuttering like a madman but all he seemed to be able to do was stare.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked, snapping from his reverie as his eyes were drawn to the obvious change in Jill's physique. "_Dios mio_, when the hell did _that_ happen?"

Jill could not suppress a smirk as she looked down at her bump as though by instinct. The white of her dress did little to disguise the evidence of her pregnancy, neither did the shape. She had long since concluded that maternity clothes were designed not to accommodate or disguise a mother-to-be's expanding waistline but instead to emphasise it in a fashionable way.

"About six months ago," she smirked, more at the dumbstruck expression on her friend's face than at her current state. "Which explains why we are here, but what about you? Or is this where you pick up girls?"

Carlos merely rolled his eyes at her words, more than used to her teasing by now.

"I'm assuming you didn't get the message," he concluded, tightening his grip on the soda can in his right hand. "Leon's been trying to get in contact with you for the past half hour. Claire's in labour!"

Chris moved suddenly, startling Jill enough to warrant a small yelp of surprise.

"She's not due for another two weeks!" he exclaimed, switching from caring husband to worried brother in a matter of seconds.

"Try telling that to the kid," Carlos shrugged. "It wants out and it's coming fast. She's only been in labour four hours and she's already dilated five centimetres...at least that's what the midwife said."

Jill could sense Chris's anger before his outburst came, though it was obvious that Carlos remained oblivious.

"Four hours?" he snarled, keeping his voice low for the sake of the other patients. "And you only tried to call me half an hour ago?"

"Hey, don't blame me, I just got dragged here," Carlos insisted, raising his arms defensively. "She's been having a one-sided screaming match with Leon for most of it, the poor guy could barely tear himself away to call you."

Fortunately for Carlos this new information amused his much bigger friend and he smirked at the thought of the scene she must be making at that moment. It didn't occur to him that he was about to walk right into that scene until Jill's hand tugged on his arm and he found himself being led down the long corridor towards a larger, more open area of the department.

It was obvious that they had walked into the most important area of the obstetrics department as soon as they entered the waiting area. The walls were as white as the many other waiting areas the hospital had to offer and the seats were as plain as all the rest but the walls were decorated with many differnt brightly-coloured furnishings. One small wall seemed to be covered entirely with children's drawings, obviously created by the existing children of women who were delivering another, and another depicted several colourful child-friendly paintings. Amongst these paintings were several bookshelves containing everything from general literature to books relating to childbirth.

Jill couldn't help but wonder if the strategically-placed toys and child-drawn pictures were merely a tactful ploy to assure mothers-to-be that the pain would be worth it in the end.

"You made it!" Leon exclaimed joyfully, jumping up from his seat as soon as he saw them turn the corner. Before either of them could respond to his greeting he rushed forward and threw his arms around Jill, who he had obviously deemed the safer option of the two.

"She's been busting my ass for the past hour," he explained once she had succeeded in wriggling out from his vice-like grip. "Kept saying she wanted to see you. She didn't seem to understand that I physically couldn't contact you and hold her hand at the same time."

He continued to pant, completely out of breath, as he turned to Chris and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Run for the hills, man," he advised before turning to look down the corridor that they had recently appeared from, eyeing the 'South Wing Exit' sign beneath the 'Gyenocology and Pre-Natal Care' arrow. "I'm going for a drink, you'll need one too so I'll bring some more. Good luck."

It seemed that he could not exit quick enough and the three that he had left in his wake stared between each other in confusion.

"Uh, yeah," Carlos muttered. "She really wanted to talk to Jill, so I suggest you let her go in alone first. Barry and Rebecca are on their way so I'll just...I'll wait here."

Without another word, he cracked open his soda can and settled into the soft foam as though he had suddenly tuned them out of existance. Jill swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged off the suddenly feeling of impending catastrophe that had fallen over her. She had still not fully come to realise how it was that she had came from lying on a hospital cot herself to standing in the waiting area, ready to comfort a friend who was about to give birth in the short space of a few minutes.

Worry suddenly settled in as she considered what Claire must have been going through at that moment. The pain she had experienced before was no minor discomfort and she knew that the real thing would be a thousand times more painful. It was enough to get her legs moving, carrying her as quickly as possible towards the door Carlos had pointed to behind a jutting wall several moments before. Despite being on autopilot, even her subconcious refused to allow her to step inside without seriously considering what she would witness on the other side. Whatever Claire was going through now, she knew that she still had to come.

The door opened slowly and ominously as she pushed, deciding that her friend's feelings were more important than her selfish fear.

The room was a lot larger than she had expected but still nothing impressive. It was a private room and from the looks of it was the best one available. Of course, with her fiancé's ties with the government, especially a senator who made regular generous donations to the hospital, the best was expected.

"You came!" Claire sighed when her friend stepped away from the heavy door. "I thought you'd be too busy."

"Are you kidding? I've been sat on my ass since Friday night," Jill smiled. Even in her pain, Claire remained as beautiful as always. Jill did not expect any less; she was a Redfield and Redfields had an annoying habit of smelling of roses no matter how much mud was flung at them. Even so, her red hair seemed matted and clung to the thin layer of sweat that covered her forehead and the light green of the hospital gown only highlighted the droplets of sweat that ran down her arms.

"How are-" she began, pausing for a moment as her face contorted into an expression of acute, intense pain before easing as she drew in a deep breath. "How are you?"

Jill laughed incrdulously and stepped forward, perching herself on the side of Claire's surprisingly large matress.

"Says the girl who's in pain," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow comically. "I'm fine. How about you? You obviously didn't expect to be giving birth so soon."

"Maybe not," Claire groaned. "But I was due in...ten days. Not too bad, all things considered."

She offered an encouraging smile as the light in Jill's eyes faded and she turned to look away from her companion. Contact between the two had been lax in the two weeks since their talk, with Claire slowly digesting the information but in the six weeks since then she had taken to visiting or simply calling every few days to check up on her. Jill felt foolish that she had ever doubted her friend's commitment to her word.

"Have you spoken to him yet?" Claire asked quietly, lest unwanted ears pick up her words. "I mean...about everything?"

Jill met her eyes for a brief moment, sensing the hope behind them. The answer hung on her lips, ready to be spoken when Claire let out a muffled cry of pain and discomfort, though she tried to conceal it. The words melted into nothing before the contraction had passed.

'She's having a baby,' she thought, as though the concept was new and unfamiliar. 'She has enough to worry about now.'

Although her help had been greatly appreciated, Jill knew that Claire could not be burdened with her troubles any longer. It was bad enough that Chris's mood was slipping, she did not want to bring another mother down to her level.

"Yeah," she lied as her eyes darted to the colourful blanket beneath her. "We're okay."

Claire breathed a sigh of unadulterated joy, tears trickling down her cheeks as she signalled for Jill to move forward and embrace her. The guilt that lingered from her well-meaning lie settled into the older woman's heart but guilt was no stranger to her those days and she was able to keep it in check as she thanked Claire for all her help and assured her that her job was over now.

"Is he here?" Claire asked through her tears of happiness.

Jill nodded nervously. Of course she would want to see her brother but should a word be spoken out of place, her whole plan would fall through. Claire would be disappointed with her for lying and in her weakened state would likely reveal all that she had striven to keep from him. On the other hand, she would have to deal with Chris's anger over imposing such an emotional burden on his pregnant sister. She had dealt with enough upheaval for one day.

"He's outside," she told her, ignoring the tremors within her soul. "But please...don't mention any of it to him. He doesn't know that I told you before him and I don't want to upset him."

Claire nodded knowingly, agreeing with her faked sentiment. She was not given a chance to respond verbally before Jill turned to open the door and shout Chris's name. Despite Claire's silent promise to keep schtum, she could not help but feel a certain sense of nervousness as he stepped into the room.

Another pained grunt from Claire's direction caused Chris to flinch unwillingly and dash towards his sister. In an instant Jill witnessed the girl's expression change, no longer soft and gentle.

"Sorry we didn't get here sooner," he apologised. "Are you okay?"

She glared at him through narrowed eyes, a hatred he had not witnessed before seeping through the small gap in her eyelids. He could not swallow his words quick enough but even as he did, nothing rushed forward to replace them.

"Why don't you go trap your balls in a hydraulic press and ask me that again?" she seethed, keeping her voice smooth and calm. Jill could not mask her amusement. It was obvious that the mere presence of testosterone riled her in a way that lifted her natural temper to unprecedented heights. She did not envy Leon at that moment in time.

Despite her irritation, Claire managed to remain at least somewhat civilised and signalled for Jill to join her brother at her bedside.

"I need to ask you something and if I don't do it now I know I'll end up asking the first person I see after the birth," she breathed as another contraction seized her.

Chris sidestepped nervously around Jill, sensing that another outburst was imminent. She noticed that despite his movements, his arm remained around her waist the entire time. It was a possesiveness that had begun to worry her.

"I've known you for about twelve years now," Claire began, her eyes fixed on Jill, a softer expression becoming her. "You've always struck me as a woman who doesn't take shit from anyone. I'd say that we were similar in that way but you're so much better at it than I am. You're strong, independent, capable and you have the morals of a saint. I know that I can trust you to make the right call in difficult situations and to treat those around you with love and respect no matter how much they wind you up. If, God forbid, anything were to happen to Leon or to myself, that's the kind of person I want to raise my child. And Chris...you're an ass but you're a lovable one. We talked about this and we want you to be Godparents."

Words failed both halves of the stunned couple. It was an offer that had not been extended to them before and promised a situation that they weren't sure they were prepared for.

"These last few months have proven that you guys can cope with anything," she continued. "I wouldn't want anybody else."

Neither of them responded, still too dumbstruck to comprehend the extent of what she was asking. Sure, neither of them expected her or Leon to disappear anytime soon but the gesture alone was enough to provoke serious thought.

Jill glanced nervously at Chris, who blinked himself from his stupor and turned to face her. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't quite sure how to react. His eyes flitted momentarily to the bulge in her dress and suddenly she understood. The pain she had blocked out the moment Carlos had announced Claire's labour seemed startingly recognisable in his eyes and it only served to deepen the guilt within hers.

She did not know how she would cope with her own child, let alone with somebody else's. Theoretically their marriage was solid but she could still feel the wounds that had not quite healed. She knew that in a few short months everything would change for them and right then she feared that it may not be for the better. There was so much guilt that she had yet to deal with, that she still could not accept. The burden it imposed on her already fragile mind assured her that they were not out of the woods just yet.

Chris? She dared not think about the cracks she had begun to witness in his composure. She knew that his frustration was beginning to overwhelm him and even so, she could not bring herself to reveal her guilt. With him she stood a chance at pulling through, but alone...

'I can't keep this up forever'.

"Claire...I don't know," she breathed, feeling Chris tense beside her as she spoke. His arm fell from her waist and she turned to throw him a questioning look, one which he chose to ignore. She had been so sure that he would have felt the same way.

"That's okay," Claire smiled, sinking back into her damp pillows. "Take some time to think about it."

It was obvious that she expected them to accept her offer, even if they initially declined. To her they were a recovered couple; one who had returned from a long vacation in hell with smiles on their faces.

'If only it were that simple.'

The truth was that they were not the couple that Claire wanted as Godparents. It was a painful reality, but one that she was forcing them to live.

* * *

The cool night air drifted in through the electronic doors. Even as it raised the hairs on Jill's arms she harboured no desire to move away. She was exhausted and hungry but was adamant to see the night through. Even the nap she had returned home for earlier in the day did little to ease her fatigue.

Despite the hasty start to Claire's labour it had dragged itself out over eleven hours. It all became too much for Jill to bear when she witnessed her friend's screaming form being wheeled down the hall towards the delivery room just before midnight. The pain, the sweat, the tears...it brought with it the urge to vomit.

"Chris?" she called into the darkness, beginning to worry about her husband's absence. They had barely spoken all day, their contact limited to superficial physical reassurances. She knew that her admission to Claire had left him wounded but she still could not for the life of her think why.

It had always been _him_ who would berate her for being dishonest and taking on more than she was capable of handling. Yet the one time she was brutally honest, he chose to fall into silence and disappear completely when she needed him the most.

Despite the effect her near-decline of a role as Godmother had on him, the silence had not settled in until Rebecca gleefully announced how happy she was that they were back to normal. It seemed as though the suggestion of normality offended him for a reason that was completely beyond her.

She did not have it in her to blame him. Her heart was still reeling from the scare they had faced the previous morning and she knew that he would be in the same position. It was the one thing that annoyed her about her husband; he never openly discussed his feelings. She knew it was his damn male pride and no matter how much she poked and probed, she could still not seem to break past his mental barrier.

A sudden movement on the corner of the nearest building caught her attention and she slowly began to step into the shadows, her eyes adjusting from the glare of the hospital lights to the dim subtlety of the car park illuminations. A figure rested pensively against the wall of what appeared to a crude smoking shelter, shrouded in a thin veil of smoke. It alarmed her that the hospital would actively provide a venue for smoking on its grounds but it did seem to keep people from smoking next to the entrance.

The figure did not seem to sense her presence as she moved closer still and it took a deep drag from a lit cigarette before its other hand came up to its face, seeming to pinch the bridge of its nose. It was then that she recognised the muscular physique and casual stance.

"Chris?" she asked, barely a foot from the man in question. He did not seem startled by her voice but his eyes widened in shock as he frantically stubbed his almost-spent cigarette out against a nearby trash can.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, gently yet firmly taking her arm and guiding her away from where he had just been standing. "You know you can't be anywhere near smoke."

"And what about you?" she snarled, throwing his arm away. "I thought you'd quit!"

He did not reply, only gazed at her mournfully, as though he expected as much but did not want to deal with it.

"Twice," he confirmed. "I only get the urge when I'm stressed, I swear-"

He ceased his assurance when he witnessed her downcast eyes and stepped forward to place a hand on each of her arms. She dutifully noted that he did not make any attempt to embrace or console her.

"Six hours," she breathed restlessly. "Six hours we've been sitting in this hospital with nothing to do and barely a word said between us and you still choose to smoke your stress away?"

He did not have a reply for this accusation and his guilt was as evident in his stance as it was in his expression.

"You know I hate you smoking," she continued, hoping to strike a nerve. "I don't want to watch you slowly kill yourself."

"Oh, but it's fine when the situation is in reverse?" he accused, unable to hide the emotional strain his heart placed on his words.

Jill froze, rooted to the spot as she tried to understand what he was trying to suggest. It seemed as though she had stumbled across him at a weak moment and she was torn between exploiting this and running away.

"Don't give me that look," he begged. "I know that you're aware of it. Do you not trust me? Is that it?"

The weight of his words suddenly hit her and she shrunk back from the impact. Her lack of respose only infuriated him further and he turned with a frustrated cry to storm off in a nicotine-fuelled rage.

She did not know what else to do but storm after him, her footsteps echoing around the empty parking lot as she chased him into the darkness. The wind whipped furiously around them both, teasing the exposed skin of her arms until goosebumps appeared. It was harsh and unrelenting but so was she and with her last burst of energy she spun him around and pushed him backwards into their black SUV as he attempted to force his key into the lock.

The deep stench of tobacco was overpowering and she wondered just how many he had smoked in the hour he had been absent. That was not all...something else lingered around the pungent odour of the one habit she had never learned to tolerate, something bitter.

"Oh, please tell me that's not beer," she begged furiously. "Your sister is in labour and you disappear to get drunk?"

"I had one pint, alright!" he defended. "And for the record, Barry was with me so it's not like I went out there just to spite you."

He sighed in defeat and gently pushed her hands away from where they gripped his T-shirt, obviously dropping the furious act he was trying to put on. Jill could see that he was battling with something internally and the way he looked at her as he smoothed her hair back did nothing to dispel her confusion.

"Chris, what's wrong?" she asked in a softer voice than what she had previously used. "It's not about the contractions is it?"

The fear of the experience returned with a vengeance as she spoke the words and Chris sighed as he recognised the emotion in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, his voice breaking once again. "We've been kidding ourselves these past few months. I know that our relationship is fine but, Jill...you're not. I thought that maybe it was just me, maybe I was just being pessimistic, but how do you explain the Godparent thing? I _know_ that you know it, too. If that is true then why won't you talk to me? You yourself admitted that it felt a hell of a lot better to share what he subjected you to...why can't you tell me the rest?"

Her hands moved to her arms automatically, hoping to chase away the chill that his words had sent deep into her core. She felt completely exposed; vulnerable and afraid, just as she had back in Africa. What frightened her more than the memories that his well-meaning insistance had teased to the surface was the sheer rapidity with which her mood had shifted.

"I-It's different," she stuttered. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me!" he requested, moving forward to seize her arms again. He could feel her trembling and mistakenly assumed that it was because of the cold. In true gentleman fashion, he removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders, rubbing her arms beneath the fabric for extra measure.

Jill found it difficult to accept this gesture as graciously as she perhaps should have and tried to ignore the deep scent of tobacco that seemed to be beaten into the fabric. Despite her hatred for the damn things, cigarette smoke always reminded her of him back in their S.T.A.R.S. days. For the briefest of moments it succeeded in distracting her from the matter at hand before she hurtled back to reality.

"It's not that simple," she revealed, her tone lowering to a level just above begging.

She could feel her resistance weakening and fought against it, an act which astounded her. She had always told herself that she would open up completely when she knew that she was strong enough to carry on with out him. He would break as Claire had and remaining with her would prove too difficult. He would leave and she would be left alone, open and vulnerable. There was not a cell in her body that believed she was capable of making it on her own, not just yet.

"Everything is simple, Jill," he pressed with an irritating determination. "You don't know if I will understand until you try me."

"But you won't!" she insisted, gripping on to her emotional barrier as it slipped further and further away from her. The woman within that had given her so much strength as of late had never annoyed her so much as it had at that moment. She screamed and kicked, fighting hard against her protests.

"Yes I will," Chris continued, sensing progress but not the danger that it would bring with it.

There was so much ground to cover, so many feelings to convey. A cold parking lot in the dead of night was not the setting she had in mind when picturing the moment she finally came clean. Their home was not far away from the hospital but the journey home was long enough without the chill of silence following them. She could not last another hour if he chose to collect his thoughts the way Claire had; she was already struggling to stay awake.

Rationality began to cloud what she assumed was her better judgement as the third person in the equation came into play once again. Reality was closing in fast, tearing her defenses further away from her. It was not her own sanity that worried her anymore; it was the wellbeing of her baby. She could do little more than curse her damn maternal instincts as she attempted to seal the break before they succeeded in forcing any small detail out.

A simple reassuring kick from the child within her was all it took to make the final finger slip and the barrier zoom far out of reach.

_Deep inside she screamed in protest but even as her mind fought the effects of the chemical she could feel his fingers curl against the back of her head, pulling down her hood and exposing her shame to her partner._

_She had hoped and prayed that he would rescue her, that he would find out that it was her behind the mask. But not like this..._

_Without its disguise, her face twisted in determination, her body boldly moving forward as though poised to attack._

_"Jill...?" she heard him speak. If the tone of his voice was not enough to break her already wounded heart then the expression that fell upon him did. His eyes softened as he lowered his gun, his face almost alight with hope and happiness. No amount of screaming could alert him to the danger. His hope was misplaced, his happiness misguided._

_He looked good, that much she would admit. His muscular body bore little resemblance to that which she had made love to only the night before they had last met. His hair remained as messy as always, his skin burnt by the harsh African sun. Blood coated both his clothes and his arms and heavy bags rested beneath his eyes. It was obvious that he had not rested in a while and she knew him well enough to see that he was not about to let something as trivial as exhaustion stop him._

_She met his ecstatic gaze with one of disinterest and silent fury. It took him only a matter of seconds to realise that she did not react to his presence the way he had hoped._

_"Jill, it's me...Chris!" he offered, assuming that she had merely grown absent-minded in the time they had spent apart and was thrown off by his altered appearance. He did not seem to connect her presence to the figure that had brutally attacked him only moments before._

_"What?" asked a startled woman to his side. She was petite but athletic, dark skinned with even darker hair and a scowl that almost matched hers. Chris's new partner? Sheva? "Are you sure that's her?"_

_"The one and _only_," Wesker taunted, his voice seeming to give her a silent command. Before she could protest the thick material of her cloak surrounded her, her body tilting backwards as she propelled herself forward and slammed her feet into something hard. Bullets whizzed past her and more blows were sent in various directions. Somewhere behind her a gun clattered to the floor and moments later her thighs wrapped tightly around the head of the African girl as her body used its own weight to throw her across the room._

_With the girl out of the picture, her attention turned to her ex-partner. Everything happened so fast, she barely had time to process her actions let alone react to them._

___Chris did not move, not even as he turned his attention away from Wesker to observe the figure that sped towards him. Even as his eyes widened in shock he made no serious attempt to raise his weapon. Had he been focused she knew that he could have easily gunned her down before she reached him. They grappled for a brief moment, Chris trying to seize her wrists while she forced his arm across his chest, a hand moving in quickly to grip his neck._

_Afraid of what she would do next she screamed louder, thrashing about inside her shell, doing anything she could to smash through her invisible restraints. The wounds she had inflicted ran deeper than bruises and in that one brief moment she felt a guilt more profound than she thought possible._

_'Chris...I'm so sorry.'_

Her knees collided painfully with the tarmac, skin splitting against the rough texture. Chris could not react quick enough and simply dropped to the ground himself, fearing the worst.

'Next time we might not be so lucky,' she thought as her thoughts drifted to her earlier scare. Every thought that had flitted through her mind since discovering her condition weighed on her with immeasurable force.

"Jill!" she heard his voice cry, loud and clear through her maelstrom of emotions.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, her eyes dry but her words desperate. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through."

The usual denial came fast and hard, but she tuned out his words as he hauled her to her feet, lest she find herself agreeing with them. The jacket that had fallen from her shoulders was replaced but she refused to allow herself to be pulled into the warm comfort of his embrace. Instead, she embraced the anger that suddenly surged through her at his refusal to truly listen.

"Hit me!" she demanded, hardening her expression in the hopes that he would ignore her apology. "And mean it."

"What? No!" The idea was absurd and sickening. Not only was she his wife, but she was _pregnant_. He had no respect for scumbags who knocked their partners around, a sentiment that had earned him many harsh reprimands from Wesker during his S.T.A.R.S. days when left tackling cases of domestic violence. More often than not he would be unable to keep his cool and if the guy was lucky all he got were a few choice words roared in his direction.

"Hit me!" she insisted, shoving him back against the car to give her words extra weight.

"Even if you weren't _my_ wife and it wasn't _my_ child you were pregnant with, I still wouldn't!" he growled, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting unwanted attention. "Even if you were just some girl on the street who had pissed me off I wouldn't. Now calm the _fuck_ down!"

"You can't even conceive the idea, can you?" she asked, essentially showing him that she had never expected him to obey her. "Just think about it. Imagine holding my throat and squeezing, imagine kicking me so hard my ribs break. _Imagine_ beating me to a pulp while I refused to fight back, screaming at you to stop, to recognise me."

"Jill, stop!" he cried, his expression disturbed as the images were forced into his mind. His eyes moistened as his head shook furiously in an attempt to chase them away, to pretend that he could not hear her screams.

"Imagine that I_ can't_ stop," she continued, her face mere inches away from his by now. "Imagine having no control over yourself. Im- Imagine screaming at yourself and still being ignored. To you it's just a scenario, to me it was _real_."

His eyes did not soften, though they opened slowly. She could see his mind begin to process her words, connecting them to actions he had long since forgotten about. As these memories were dragged from the depths of his consciouness she could see that they brought with them affectivities that were less than pleasant.

"Jill, that wasn't your fault!" he spoke slowly, faltering as she rolled her eyes at him. "We went through this already, before we even left Africa! You know that I don't blame you, neither does Sheva."

Her faux anger dissipated, all of her energy depleted by the act of holding back all that she wanted to say.

"I know you don't," she whispered. "But I can't stop blaming myself."

There was no reply to her miniature confession but she could see his arms move out of the corner of her eye. No attempt was made by her or by him to push her fallen hair away from her face. She welcomed the physical barrier, wearing it as a mask of sorts that she could hide behind until she was ready to face the music as Jill Redfield.

"I recognised you the moment I jumped through that window," she continued in one breath. "At first I wasn't sure what to believe, but when I saw you on the dock, I knew..."

She drew a deep, shuddering breath but to her delight, Chris did not step forward to hold her. He had, it appeared, learned from experience and waited patiently for her to finish. Physical contact was a distraction that she found hard to snap away from. If he did not touch her, if he did not speak to her, then she could pretend that he was not there and pour her heart out with less effort than it would take to speak to him directly.

"It was the first true sense of hope I had felt in a long time," she sighed. "I knew that you could stop Wesker and maybe, just maybe you could liberate me. When...when Wesker found out that you were out there he decided that he wanted _me_ to kill you. I thought that I actually would. I carried out some horrible tasks but nothing hurt me as much as fighting you did. I didn't want you to see me because I felt so _ashamed_. Ashamed of my involvement in the production of Uroboros and... I knew that you would kill me if you found out what I had become. It would have been so much better for you to think I had died with honour, not lived in degradation."

Chris moved forward, holding her in a gentle part-embrace as he threw all caution to the wind and ignored the rules he had accepted without question. Loathe as she was to admit it, she enjoyed the comfort that he offered and held on for several long seconds before moving back again, waiting for the old tears to dry up before she continued.

Illumination suddenly swooped by them, momentarily casting a blinding light onto their forms as a dull whir interrupted their moment. Within seconds the car had veered into an empty space and the lights and engine were cut off, plunging them both into relative darkness once again. In that brief moment of reality, Chris witnessed the damage the night had already inflicted upon Jill. Her knees were bloody and grazed, goosebumps prominent in the artificial light and bags under her eyes that even her hair could not hide.

"Come on," he whispered, taking her arm. "Get inside the car, it will be more comfortable."

He guided her carefully around the front of the oversized vehicle and held the door open as he helped her into her seat, thankful that he had listened to her and bought the lower BMW rather than the monstrous Land Rover he had his eye on. She barely had time to settle into the seat before he jumped into the other side and closed the door, shutting out the last of the background noise.

The vacuum within the car frightened her, leaving her with little to drown out her inner screams. She had never expected herself to be pushed into a corner, not tonight of all nights.

"Keep talking," he urged when she made no attempt to break the silence herself. "I want to know everything."

"No, you don't," she exhaled. "Not really."

Her eyes were drawn down to her knees and when she witnessed the extent of the damage she ran a finger along the superficial wounds, removing the minute chunks of dirt that had become embedded in her skin. She did not have to ask for Chris to reach for the first aid kit she made him keep beneath the passenger seat and before she had thought of the idea herself an antiseptic wipe was held infront of her.

"Thank you," she accepted, folding it between her fingers before swiping it along the graze in one swift motion. A sharp hiss escaped her in response to the sting that followed.

"Jill, I don't care what he made you do," Chris insisted. "You don't have to suffer through this alone. I _want_ to help."

She knew that there was no use in fighting now; she was open for what was likely to be the only time and was desperate to reach out and close the one remaining gap between them. Having said that, she knew that he still would not be able to tolerate the truth. He despised Umbrella and all that they had done; the acts she had commited herself were no better.

"You read the report," she acknowledged as she dropped the blemished wipe into the small pocket on the passenger-side door. "You know that it was my blood that made Uroboros viable. I was as much to blame for the completion of that virus as he was. I watched as he infected countless people with that damn virus and each and every one of them would mutate. When...when Excella told him that the BSAA were on their way he sent me out with a sample of Uroboros. He sent me into the village with Irving and... The villagers were too afraid, they'd witnessed what I had done before. They just watched as I dragged that poor man off the street and I couldn't do a damn thing when I held him down so that Irving could inject him. I just...stood there. He was screaming for help, begging me, but I couldn't- Even after he started to mutate he reached out for my hand, for some comfort."

Images of the villager's face floated before her. His screams were as real to her then as they had been that day.

"Chris, that man killed Alpha Team!" she told him, sneering so he would realise that she spoke the truth. "I watch the thing he became tear them apart. I knew those men..."

She turned slowly to gauge his response but his face remained expressionless, his eyes lidded as he devoted all of his attention to her words. The information could not have been easy to process; she had witnessed his shock at discovering what was left of Alpha Team and the carnage that Uroboros left in its wake. Had he spoken a word at that moment, she knew that she would have found some shred of disappointment or even hatred in his voice but she was left with only silence to analyse.

She reached for his hand, actively seeking the comfort she knew would cease her confession but it never came. Her fingertips traced small scars on his knuckles, the only remaining evidence of his last fight with Wesker. Sheva had been lucky enough to escape with no lasting reminders of her terrible ordeal, but Chris had not been so lucky. However, despite the morbid significance of these marks, Chris wore them with pride. Not only were they a sign that his enemy had finally been defeated and his friends finally put to rest, but it was also significant of his triumph over an entity far stronger than himself. As long as he wore those scars he knew that he was capable of anything.

Before she truly understood her reasons for doing so, Jill began to speak. There was no taking back the words that left her with such reluctance, no erasing the events that they described. She spared no detail, describing how she had forced the first parasite into a lone villager and witnessed Las Plagas overtake Kijuju, how Wesker would pull test subjects from their tubes for an execution she was forced to carry out...and many more that she dared not dwell on for too long. She could not control her words, nor the tears that accompanied them. All the while, he remained still and silent and after ten long minutes she began to wonder if he was truly listening to the words she spoke.

By the time she had finished there was no breath left within her to cry or to agree with any accusations he may throw her way. As she waited for a verbal response, his head turned slowly away from her, the hand upon which her fingers rested unmoving as she slid them beneath it.

The strength that had fuelled her words left her and the feeling of deep shame and regret that she had expected settled in. She had never expected him to take the new information easily, to readily accept that his wife was a tyrant with almost as much blood on her hands as the man who had held her leash.

The frantic beating of her heart seemed to fill the car, the sound driving her to the brink of her sanity. Still, he did not speak a word. It amazed her that her heart still beat at all.

She reached for the door handle, shivering from the cold that rushed into the vehicle as it was flung open with great force. Her feet hit the ground suddenly as she closed the door behind her, seperating his world from hers if only for a brief second. When the door remained firmly closed she felt the first tears drip from her lashes and her legs began to carry her away from the car. Where to? She didn't know, and neither did she care; she simply had to get away.

In the dark empitness she could hear her flats slap against the tarmac, echoing around her in a way that disguised the distant heavy slam of a car door. Forceful footstepps sounded behind her but she kept moving, shoulders hunched over as she cursed herself for her stupidity.

"Jill!"

His voice was enough to cease her progress but she did not turn to face him, not wanting to expose more of her shame to him. Her hesitation was recognised and he closed the distance, moving into her line of vision so that she didn't _need_ to respond.

"Where are you going?" he asked, remaining a safe distance away.

Jill looked around and realised that she had no idea and her head dropped in exasperation at herself. She couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

"Jill..."

'So fucking stupid, why didn't I _think_?'

Warm fingers appeared on her cheeks, sliding back to her neck as his palms came to rest on her cheeks and he tilted her head back. In the sparse light that surrounded them, the tracks of her tears glowed a painful shade of yellow. She could feel his thumbs move to catch a few droplets as they slid down the same old route and suddenly she saw a glimmer of hope.

Even so, she once again felt like a prisoner in her own skin as she physically refused to reflect her inner thoughts. She knew that his sense of righteousness would not allow him to excuse what she had done. A terrifying future played out in her mind; he would leave, they would divorce and he would be awarded full custody of their child on account of her instability. Perhaps it was for the best that way?

"I told you that you didn't want to know," she said, voicing the only semi-positive thought that came to her mind.

To her complete and utmost surprise, he laughed.

All she could do was stare at him in confusion and to stumble a little when he pulled her into him.

'What the hell?' she thought. 'This wasn't supposed to happen.'

His laughter continued, muffled by her hair as he turned his head in an almost-nuzzling motion. Before she knew it, she too was laughing and the tears that fell were for once tears of joy. In their hysteria they silently acknowledged that nothing had changed between them, contrary to what she had convinced herself had happened.

"I thought-" she began hesitantly as the laughter faded. Even with this light-hearted interruption of her thought patterns she still could not bring herself to face such a scenario.

"That's your problem," he told her. "You think too much. I don't want you to ever think that I could leave you over something that _wasn't your fault_. You're the love of my damn life, girl. One day I'll make you see."

His smile chased away her worry; it certainly was not the reaction she had expected to witness. She was the reason for his nightmares, the devil by his side...and he didn't care. Finally she understood that which had eluded her for months. It was love, it was always love. How else could he accept her position so easily when his sister had been deeply troubled by what she had said. He seemed to take her torture more to heart than her violence.

"Jill, look at me," he ordered, his tone changing drastically to one of fierce determination. "What you did, it wasn't your fault. It was Wesker's doing and you need to accept that. You need to move on."

In her delirium, Jill nodded readily. She would have agreed to anything in that moment of time. There were no scathing thoughts of how she had been trying to do that all along, no voice screaming that he didn't understand. She remained impervious to all the truths that swirled round her conciousness. Chris was still by her side and to her that was all that mattered, it was all that had _ever_ mattered.

"I hope you don't mind," he grinned sheepishly as he pushed her damp hair out of her eyes. "But I called the BSAA when you were sleeping earlier. I told them we had a scare and you were told to rest and they agreed to give you an extra two months' maternity leave...starting tomorrow. Well, today but you get the picture. They're giving me two days off a week on top of that. Got to love being popular."

The euphoria that surrounded her ebbed away as she took in this new information but she smiled gratefully. She knew that she did not have the energy to work and had a hell of a lot of reading to catch up on. Still, something niggled in the back of her mind, something the giddy elation had been masking. She witnessed it staring back at her as she locked eyes with Chris but could not quite discern its origins or its identity.

An expected kiss effectively ended the discussion of her confession and she remained surprised that it was over so quick and with so little effort. It was then that her mind snapped back to the reason they were at the hospital in the first place.

"Claire."

In the time since exiting the ward she had completely forgotten the sight of her friend being wheeled into the delivery room. They had waited over eleven hours for her to finally give birth and at the last minute it looked as though they had been waiting around for nothing.

They could not dash back towards the glass doors quick enough. Quite literally in Jill's case as her waddle-in-training slowed her down considerably. She also discovered that it was not a good idea to power-walk with a twenty-four-week-old fetus pressing against her bladder. Nevertheless, their re-entry into the hospital was swift and to their delight Rebecca, Carlos, Barry and Kathy remained seated patiently in the waiting area.

"Hey, we were wondering where you disappeared to," Kathy smiled as they maneuvered around the seats and scattered toys.

"Oh my God, what happened to your knees?" Rebecca exclaimed. Carlos's arms shot out as she pushed herself up from her chair and attempted to dash towards her.

Jill was thankful for the concern her friend showed, worried sick that she still harboured ill feelings towards her for her actions at the barbeque several months ago. Rebecca cared deeply about her friend and despite the lack of contact between them since that fateful afternoon, she would call Chris every now and then for an update. It seemed, however, that the man in question neglected to reveal their good news and she had been visibly stunned upon witnessing her friend a considerable way into a pregnancy she had denied in anger during their last meeting. It came as a surprise to both girls when no medical advice was offered; just a simple hug.

It was a moment that revealed just how much Jill meant to her friends and it was enough to bring the hormonally imbalanced woman to tears; she had never asked for their support and in her despair had done all she could to alienate herself. Not once did they turn around and declare that they were sick and tired of her lack of communication and the verbal abuse that would come with the little they did have. No, they knew that she needed time, space and the benefit of the doubt and they were all willing to give it.

Jill shook these lingering thoughts of appreciation away and glanced down at her raw knees.

"I got a little light-headed," she shrugged, forcing a smile as Carlos gripped Rebecca's arms and forced her back into her seat.

"You should really go home," she urged once she resigned herself to the fact that her hispanic friend wasn't about to let her move. "You need rest."

The thought had occured to her on many occasions throughout the past few hours but she couldn't bring herself to leave when Claire was so obviously thrilled with her presence. Aside from that, she had hoped to fire off a few sneaky questions about the birth before she was thrown into the same situation herself.

"You might want to wait a few minutes," a voice announced from behind them. They all spun around in synchronicity and Jill found that Chris's grip on her waist tightened considerably. When her eyes followed the gaze of her friends' she knew why.

"I want to introduce you to someone," Leon announced, movement stirring within what she had initially assumed to be a bundle of blankets. "Everyone, this is Katherine Elizabeth Kennedy."

A sudden flurry of movement whirled around him as the congregation jumped to their feet, smiles stretching across their weary features as the blanket moved again, revealing flushed pink skin.

Chris and Jill remained rooted to the spot, the energy to fight through their friends apparantly spent. Barely a few moments passed before Leon looked up and locked eyes with Chris. He looked spent; exhausted from hours of running around after his screaming fiancée. Even so, he radiated an aura of pure happiness that neither of them had witnessed in him before. It was inexplicable and it was beautiful. No material possession could produce such a response and no attainment could force such blissful adoration into his expression; it was the look of a man who's dream had come true in a far more spectacular way than he had anticipated.

When the others noted their lack of movement they stepped aside, allowing a gap big enough for Jill to squeeze into. Chris was happy enough to position himself behind her, a hand once again finding its way to her bump.

Katherine lay still in her father's arms, an arm occasionally moving within her soft white blanket. Jill marvelled at her size; despite being born ten days early she was big, healthy and oh so beautiful. She found it hard not to gush as she took in the minute details of her face and the way her eyes would tighten ever so slightly as though she were trying to sleep but could not quite acheive this goal.

"She's beautiful," Jill breathed. "Really. Congratulations, both of you."

Leon smiled appreciatively at her but could not seem to tear his eyes away from his daughter for more than a few seconds.

"Is Claire alright?" Chris enquired.

"She's fine," Leon assured him, smiling down at the baby in his arms as her eyelids fluttered back to reveal irises that matched his both in colour and intensity. Barely a second passed before they closed again, the light proving too much for her weak eyes. "Exhausted. She, uh- doesn't want to see anyone. She's a bit of a mess. I'm trying to talk her round but don't hold your breath."

Jill could hear Chris laugh quietly to himself. Even at thirty years old she remained the same little sister he had always known. A quick turn of her head revealed to her the adoring smile that he wore and suddenly Claire's offer drifted back to her with an answer not too far behind. She could not think of any other way to respond to her request and, looking down at her niece, Jill could not think of a better job in the world...at least for the next three months.

"Leon," she spoke, clearing her throat when her voice came out as little more than a whisper. "Tell Claire...tell her that we said yes."

It was the first time she had witnessed him look away from Katherine for more than a few seconds. It was obvious that he understood what she meant and just when she thought that his smile could not possibly get broader, it did.

"I will," he spoke through his earsplitting grin. "And thank you. Truly. You don't know how much this means to us."

Jill once again looked at Chris for approval she perhaps should have sought before she spoke. However, she found no resistance in his expression, only pride and utter happiness. She still did not understand why they would want her to take on such responsibility but she accepted the honour graciously.

"We should probably get back now," Chris yawned as his eyes fell upon a brightly-coloured clock on the far wall. "We should have been in bed hours ago."

Jill nodded in agreement, satisfied that they had seen the night through and also that it had ended on such a high note. She did not know what tomorrow would bring but she knew that it would be brighter than the day that had just faced.

Leon agreed with Chris's announcement and bid the couple goodbye but showed no signs of moving. It was endearing to say the least.

"Let's go," Chris whispered, slapping Jill gently and quietly on the ass. It was an act he had performed many times before but she had never felt her heart sink as hard and fast as it did right then.

A wink accompanied the slap, as did the lopsided smile that usually made her knees weaken considerably. But not this time...

It all came flooding back, every detail of their confrontation in the parking lot. She could feel his desire to know the truth, sense his inability to answer after the truth had been revealed and the indifference he had shown mere moments later as he chased her across the parking lot. Now, he seemed to expect them to go home and fall into bed together, after all that had happened. Using sex as a form of comfort was not unfamiliar to either of them; the sheets of their bunker on countless missions knew that well. Even so, she knew that he saw this as a celebration of sorts.

'He doesn't understand...'

It did not take a genius to figure out that he was in denial. Part of what she had witnessed was the effect of her words; the silence and distance she had feared so much and found herself fleeing. In some sick, twisted sense of the word, he seemed to have chosen to 'help' her by hearing but not truly _listening_. He was stubborn and would deny the truth until the bitter end.

All of the euphoria from their moment and the ones that had followed it was torn violently away from her, leaving her naked and exposed once again. Even her eyes closed in regret as she remembered the promise she had made. She had lied to him and in her eyes that made her equally at fault.

She knew that she needed to make him see what Wesker's control had done to her. Her whole world had been torn asunder, her morals defiled by the body that had striven to uphold them. How could she forget the countless innocents that had died because of her actions?

He could never understand because to him they were just statistics.

* * *

The journey home had been quiet, though not voluntarily. Chris had attempted to strike up a conversation many times, more often than not involving his newborn niece, but Jill could not spare enough thought to pay much attention to him. She knew that their brief introduction with Claire's daughter had left him in a mood elevated far above what he had been putting on since her confession. It almost broke her heart that she was about to shatter this mood and drag him out of the clouds and down to her level.

The warmth of their home was less than comforting and she felt a daunting sense of reluctance at stepping inside. Chris remained oblivious to her hesitation and shrugged off his reclaimed jacket, depositing it on the sofa in a less than orderly fashion.

Once the front door closed behind her he turned with a weary smile that she knew she did not deserve. He never smiled this much...

"Chris," she spoke quickly, hoping that the urgency of her tone would reach past the barrier of blissful ignorance he had hidden behind.

As was expected, he mistook this urgency for panic and sighed in resignation. He was too tired to deal with such an upset and so was she but she knew that the moment would not last much longer. It was something that she needed to do while she still had the strength and right frame of mind.

"Chris, I can't," she admitted painfully. "I'm sorry that I lied to you, but I can't let go, I can't move on. It's not that easy."

It amazed her how so much could change within the space of a few short seconds. Even the air seemed to change; suddenly hot, humid and too heavy for either of them to bear. Behind the superficiality of the moment she could see that she had reached him on some level. She was unsure if it was the confession of a lie or the content, but it was progress she was willing to work with.

"Jill, you-" he began, his eyebrows furrowing in dismay. His sudden change in attitude only confirmed her suspicions; his acceptance had not been entirely genuine.

Jill threw up a hand to silence him, her heart beating furiously against her ribcage. No amount of planning for this moment could put the words she sought in her mouth.

"I lost two years of my life," she tried, hoping that she could drive the point home with ease. "I was tortured and I was manipulated. Everything he made me do went against what I believe in. He essentially turned me into what we had been hunting. You- You can't understand what that feels like, you can't understand what I did."

She watched him move hastily towards her but chose not to react, not even when he gripped her arms tightly. She could see in his eyes that he was tired, but she also saw a fierce determination that she knew could either help or hinder her efforts.

"I listened to what you told me," he promised. "I know that what happened to you was...it was indescribable, but you can't keep all this pain inside. You _have_ to let go."

"I want to," she sighed in exasperation. "Trust me, I do. I just...oh, God."

The futility of her words sank in even as she spoke. She knew that the conversation would only go round in circles; she would voice her feelings and he would urge her to let go, she would tell him she couldn't and so on and so forth until they were both so frustrated and exhausted that they lost the will to argue. He meant well with his approach but well-meaning was not enough.

It occured to her that she had nobody to blame but herself; months of secrecy and avoidance had rendered him incapable of feeling much more than happiness and relief following her confession. He had seen a destination and now that they had reached it he had forgotten the purpose of the journey. Her feelings were still too painful to voice and she knew that she could not revisit all that she had told him. The window of opportunity was slowly closing and in her desperation she thought of the one solution she had hoped never to consider.

It took less than a heartbeat for her to pull away from him and reach into her light handbag. Her fingers met every obstacle known to woman on their search for the intended item but soon enough they touched the fabric of her purse and she tugged, ignoring the lipgloss and band-aid that fell to the floor. Chris questioned her intentions but she tuned out his voice and made her way to the china cabinet, depositing her purse and handbag on the dining table as she passed.

The cabinet rattled ominously as she forced the lower doors open and searched through the crowd of bottles until she found the small wooden box that she had not touched in weeks. The texture seemed almost unfamiliar to her as she pulled it from its resting place and dropped it carefully onto the dining table, noting that the lock remained intact. It was an old box and she had worried about the wood rotting around the metal furnishings and thus dislodging the lock. She did not have the heart to smash open a box that she still did not accept belonged to her. Her mother had barely been fourteen years old when she had carved her name into the lock; it was an age she had never witnessed her daughter reach, her life tragically stolen by illness when Jill was only seven. It therefore disturbed Jill that she had chosen such a sacred keepsake as the resting place of her darkest, most dangerous memories.

Without noticing her husband move closer towards her, she opened her purse and carefully slid an ornate iron key from the folds. It was not a large key but it had looked too out of place on her keyring and she was terrified that she would lose it. The lock clicked perhaps louder than it should have as she slowly turned the key, not bothering to remove it once the job was done.

Her throat closed painfully as she opened the lid a mere fraction of the inch, as though the air inside was archaic and too toxic to breathe. Her fingers trembled as they rested on the ornately-carved lid and try as she might, she simply could not bring herself to reach inside.

"Jill?" Chris questioned as she slammed the lid and turned to face him. He could see the anguish that had enveloped her and longed to rush forward and hold her but remained as he was, lest she decline his advance.

Her eyes returned to the box, eyes following the carved lines as she toyed with the idea of locking the box once again and fighting against what needed to be done.

"When I began to have flashbacks, I started writing them down," she explained, fingers remaining firmly pressed against the hard lid. "I- I thought it would help to write down what I happened during those two years and how it made me feel. The flashbacks, they...they made me feel like I was back there, like I was living the moment again. What I wrote down is far more accurate than what I could describe now."

She paused for breath, closing her eyes against the pain. She had tried to read her writings herself on many occasions but found the raw emotions that they conveyed too potent, too overwhelming for her to tolerate. It was as though she were reading the works of another; a woman so consumed with pain and anguish that she was little more than a slave to her own self-destructive emotions.

Carefully and slowly, she pushed the box along the dining table, towards Chris. He did not seem to understand the significance of this action but he moved forward anyway.

"I want you to read it," she explained in a quiet voice. "It's not everything, but it's enough. If you want to help me then you need to understand _why_ I can't just forget it all."

She watched with bated breath as his eyes fell from hers to the box and without hesitation he pushed the lid back and reached inside. The papers had not been touched in so long and Jill no longer remembered exactly what she had written. Even now she could not bare to so much as attempt to read her own desperate words. This reaction only reinforced the realisation that she was still nowhere near 'cured', only avoidant.

But not anymore.

"I'm going to bed," she told him as he began to leaf through the crudely-torn paper. "I- I'll understand if you don't want to join me when you're done."

She did not wait for a response from her otherwise occupied husband, nor did she think that one was necessary. He continued to pull paper after paper from the box, making no attempt to read the carefully inked words just yet. Sorrow fell upon her, chasing away the false hope that she harboured. She had no desire to expose him to her pain but she knew that it must be done if they were to have any hope of a happy future together. So long had been spent concentrating on their relationship that they had lost sight of a plain and simple truth; they had no hope of a healthy relationship if they themselves were troubled. She did not want to fool herself any longer and was so sick of rose tinting her own world.

She approached him with caution, waiting until she was sure that he would not push her away before she reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. The papers fell to the table as he melted into her kiss, not knowing the true purpose behind it. She savoured every touch, committing his taste to memory with the knowledge that it may very well be the last time that she felt his warmth.

"Whoa," he muttered as they pulled apart, his eyes still closed from the momentary pleasure. "Hell of a goodnight kiss."

She smiled bitterly as she backed off, her eyes catching a cluster of words as they scanned the scattered papers.

_'...fear, I couldn't breathe. My own blood never tasted so bitter...'_

Her breath hitched as the accompanying memory returned. Before the memory could turn into something more sinister, she turned on her heel and left him to what she knew would be a long night.

She dragged her feet along the carpet as she reached the master bedroom, exhausted from the simple walk upstairs. Her whole body ached to the point where she longed to be able to slide into a warm bath, but all she had the energy to do was sleep.

Thoughts of Chris drifted in and out of her conciousness as she slowly changed into her pyjamas. She couldn't help but imagine just how their next meeting would play out and she did not think that she wanted to know. Would he take her writings as the memoirs of a troubled woman or as the confessions of a tyrant? Her heart sank at the thought and she longed for an option that would allow her to take a leap towards recovery whilst retaining Chris's high opinion of her. After all, he was not just her husband...he was her best friend.

She did not know exactly how much time passed from the moment she slid under the sheets to hearing the first signs of movement downstairs. The dim LED display on her alarm clock told her that it had been over an hour but it had seemed like so much longer. Despite her fatigue, she seemed unable to drift off peacefully. Her heart continued to pound a heavy beat into the silence and the restless child in her womb seemed unwilling to settle down. She only hoped that as time went on and it continued to grow its movements would be somewhat restricted and would not trouble her as much.

The unmistakeble groan of the staircase caused her chest to seize up painfully and she closed her eyes firmly, hoping that he would assume that she was already asleep. She did not think that she could deal with the aftermath just yet. The footsteps grew closer, beating a track to their bedroom door until there was silence once again. She waited, the pounding of her heart intensifying as she heard the handle creak and the door brush lightly against the carpet in a drawn-out sweep.

The light from the hallway spilled into the bedroom and the darkness behind her eyes was suddenly tinted red. There was no movement, no sound, but she could sense his presence lingering in the doorway. She could feel his eyes on her supposedly sleeping form and to her complete and utter shame she found herself mentally begging him to join her and hold her, to reassure her that he was willing to work with what he had learnt and not run from it.

After several long minutes the light dimmed as the door retracted and the footsteps sounded again. This time it was despair that set in as she realised that they were on the wrong side of the door. No longer feeling the need to hide her state, she allowed tears to fall dramatically and turned her face into the soft pillow to muffle her sobs. She had prepared herself for the possibility of events transpiring this way but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer misery that snaked its way beneath her skin and began to tear her apart cell by cell.

Her sobs wracked her whole body with an agonising intensity. Her already aching muscles could not cope with the strain and before she knew it the convulsions had ceased and she found herself too numb to move against the thin sheet that enveloped her.

The foosteps sounded again, following a short hiss that sounded a lot like water. She bit her lip to stifle her cries and clung to the iota of hope that she found cowering in the depths of her mind. Sure enough, the footsteps drew closer to the master bedroom and when the door opened again there was no light from the hallway. The door slid closed silently, though she could not sense further movement from him.

Just as before, she could feel his gaze upon her as he remained at the foot of their king-sized bed. His breathing was heavy and conveyed his troubled emotions in a way she was certain was unintended. He moved just as suddenly as he had appeared, maneuvering around the spacious bedroom. She could make out the quiet rush of fabric against skin as his T-shirt was peeled off and slung to the floor, his belt jangling audibly as his jeans followed suit.

The sense of foreboding Jill had felt the moment he pushed open their bedroom door remained and she was still not convinced that his reappearance signified forgiveness and acceptance. Even as the mattress dipped beneath his weight she noted that he kept a safe distance from her.

She was so sure that he could hear her quiet sniffles but still he remained resolute in his composure...or so she assumed. She barely registered his weight shift against the coils as he turned over, close enough to her that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Never before had she experienced such comfort from unbearable heat.

When his fingers brushed softly against the bare skin of her back, her body reacted as it always did and she knew that her fakery had been discovered. It seemed that he had not been aware of her alertness, fingers retracting when he felt the shiver that they envoked.

It was enough to coax out the tears once more, though he did not sense her discomfort. His breathing remained ragged and unpredictable and it was obvious to her that he was still dealing with what he had just read. She did not expect him to forgive her so readily...but she also did not expect to feel a rise in temperature as his body pressed against hers and his arm wound around her, holding her to him gently. She could sense the pain and inner turmoil that refused to relinquish its firm grip on him and she knew that things had changed, that he finally _understood_; it wasn't as simple as letting go, not for her. She still was not sure if this was truly a lucky turn of events. He obviously had difficulty being near her, a fact reassured by the hesitation she sensed in his embrace...but hesitation was not all.

Strange though it seemed, she still sensed hope. He chose to return to her even after wading through painful recollections of the dirty work she had carried out in the name of Albert Wesker. She did not know what tomorrow would bring, but she knew that he would be there. His embrace told her that he was not staying solely for the sake of their child, that their child was not the primary reason for his concern.

The arm did not rest as it usually did around her waist with a hand on her bump; it rested across her chest, his fingers entwining with hers reassuringly.

He was not holding them, he was holding _her_.

**AN - Please review :).**


	12. Ready When You Are

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN -** So I broke my promise of not making this chapter as mind-numbingly long as the last. I got carried away with some details and...well, you can see the result, lol. I was thinking about cutting the flashback but it felt like there was something missing without it so I left it in. Anyway, I apologise profusely for the long delay in updating. Blame the length of the chapter and what a pain it was to write, lol. I never intended for it to be so long since it's pretty much a filler. I hope you enjoy it regardless :). Chapter title is from a song by Trapt.

You already know what I'm going to say :). HUGE thank you to everyone who read and took the time to review, I really appreciated your thoughts on the last chapter 'cause I was so damn nervous about it, lol. So thank you to **Aleu The Lunar Wolf, Stardust4, Lemon Turkey, Anonymous, Ryoko Metallium, Captain Fox McCloud, Ultimolu, Tiger Snaps, AsunderHorizon, Kenshin13, Kira131, Keybladem, JILLsandwiches101, tek, MsValentine, C. Redfield 86, Smash King24, Alpha Pepper, d-chan-67, RukaStarr, xmenrocks, Rugbyfan, Sparkle Valentine** and **KateValentine.** I'm glad that so many people are enjoying this and I promise to try my best to ensure that the last few chapters don't disappoint :).

_**Chapter Eleven** - Ready When You Are_

"_Are you having trouble keeping up, seeing this thing through? I want to know who you're running from; me or you?"_

It was early morning when Jill finally stumbled downstairs after hours of restlessness. She had begun to find it impossible to find a position comfortable enough to accommodate her startlingly large bump while still providing her aching muscles with the relief that they so desperately yearned for. She had decided that being seven months pregnant was significantly less fun than the months that had preceded it. The baby was now large enough to restrict its movements so it was not the main element of her pregnancy that bothered her; it was the unwanted side effects that had come along with it. The aches and pains, pins and needles, constant need to evacuate her bladder and the general feeling of being as big and helpless as a beached whale. Even the frequent antenatal appointments she had to attend were proving to be more of an annoyance than a help. It was the same every week; take blood pressure, analyse whatever sample they wanted to take that week and generally be poked and prodded to the end of her patience.

It was the scans she looked forward to. Every four weeks she would be awarded with a glimpse of her child and every month it seemed they had grown by leaps and bounds. Just the day before they had been lucky enough to witness a 3D scan of their child. It truly was indescribable, witnessing the almost-perfectly formed features of a child that had yet to be born. Jill had found herself completely overwhelmed by the emotions that seemed to cave in on her world and a love so pure and unconditional that she did not fully understand it. Their decision to withold discovering the gender still stood and they had opted out of seeing a full-body 3D scan of the child strictly for this purpose.

"Morning," she chirped, waddling over to the dining table. Chris merely waved, too enthralled by an article in the newspaper he had spread before him.

His reaction drew a sigh from his weary wife. To say that the atmosphere between them had been dark and dull over the past month would be an understatement. She did not understand his distance; she had done all he had asked of her. For the first time in so long she felt as though she could be completely open with him and she spoke of her feelings when she could feel their poison taking effect. He did not react as he had in the past and she could tell that every word inflicted upon him wound after wound until she did not have the heart to continue. It was death by a thousand cuts and she desperately did not wish to be the one to deliver the blows.

_"I don't forgive you because you have not done anything to warrant forgiveness," he explained, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "They were Wesker's actions, not yours. If I forgave your actions then I would be forgiving him, forgiving what he did to you, what he put you through and I can't do that."_

_She could not see through her tears but she could feel the truth in his words and it meant more to her at that moment than any gift ever could._

_"I can't speak for the others, but it wasn't you who hurt them, it was him."  
_

His words were as clear to her now as they had been a month ago. She had believed him, she still did. It only confused her that it was not resentment that drove a wedge between them. Lately it had begun to feel as though time had turned one-eighty and dumped them right back on square one, only with their roles reversed.

She observed him with mild interest as he thumbed through the newspaper, covering a yawn with a closed fist. She wondered how long he had been out of bed himself as it was obvious he had made no attempt to clothe himself. He did not make it a regular habit to sit at the dining table clad only in his boxers but then again he also did not make it a regular habit to be out of bed so early when he did not have to be at work. She found it extremely hard not to notice the sheer amount of muscle that he possessed, even after slimming down a little since his return from Africa. He no longer looked like an obsessive bodybuilder but instead settled into the healthier category of a soldier who perhaps logged a few too many hours at the gym. What he had retained was enough to scare off the wandering eyes she was so used to find straying her way. No matter how pretty he found a girl, no man would mess with just over two hundred pounds of pure muscle.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as her eyes fell to the toned thighs she could see hidden beneath the wooden dining table. They served as a cruel reminder that they had not made love in roughly two weeks. She found it extremely unfair how her libido could stay on such a high when she herself had never felt more unsexy. It was equally unfair how her husband had shied away from sexual contact seemingly with no reason. She began to wonder if it was payback for the weeks she had forced him to go without sex when she could derive no pleasure from the act. It was not so much the pleasure that she missed...it was the intimacy.

"You might want to get dressed," she announced, swallowing her desire. "Claire will be here any minute. Don't want to scar the poor girl."

Chris seemed to agree and the newspaper was folded once again before he pushed himself to his feet with exaggerated effort.

"You got dressed quick," he pointed out, eyeing up her form-fitting top and tight maternity jeans. "You warm again?"

She smiled at the small snippet of conversation that he was offering her. Sometimes the mask he chose to wear began to slip and she could see that he was still alive and well beneath his distant attitude. It only made her wonder what it was that he was choosing to hide from.

"Yeah," she sighed dramatically. "Damn hot flashes."

Chris's brow furrowed in concern as he raised a hand to her forehead.

"Open a couple of windows," he told her. "I'll bring the fan down from the attic later."

She smiled gratefully at his gesture, but as their eyes locked briefly she saw his slightly elevated mood crash and he averted his gaze before she could witness the carnage. She could do nothing but sigh as he turned and left her to her confusing thoughts. His caring nature still shone through and at times he was more loving than normal but these moments were short-lived and his mood would often fall quickly, as though he realised that he was acting inappropriately. The irony that it was just the opposite did not pass her by unnoticed.

A well-timed knock on the front door was all it took to push these thoughts from her immediate attention and she began to waddle towards the door with an eager stride. She had not seen her sister-in-law since she had been discharged from the hospital, preferring to leave both her and Leon alone while they adjusted to the new addition to their family. It had therefore come as a very pleasant surprise when Claire had asked if they could babysit for several hours while she ran some errands.

Despite her eager anticipation of the task, Jill couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive; she had not held a child in years, having distanced herself from her family for their own protection during the years she went underground to fight Umbrella. The last child she had held in her arms celebrated their thirteenth birthday a month previously. She had voiced her fear to Chris and he had told her to look upon it as practice for when her own child finally made its grand entrance. Deep down she knew that he was right.

"Morning," Claire greeted as Jill opened the front door with haste.

Jill was amazed with how quickly the younger woman had managed to shed so much pregnancy weight. Her frame remained a little curvier than it had been pre-pregnancy, but she looked amazing, that much she would admit. She only hoped that she would be so lucky, though so far she had put on considerably less weight than Claire had. What amazed her more than the weight loss, however, was how much weight she could shoulder. Not only did she grip the handle of a car seat in which Katherine slept peacefully, but she also bore the weight of a large bag that had been slung over one shoulder, two plastic bags in one hand and an unusually-shaped pillow beneath one arm.

"Okay," Claire began, getting straight down to business as soon as she stepped over the threshold and placed the car seat carefully onto the large sofa. "I've packed diapers, bibs, a couple of soft toys and a change of clothes for her. There's also more than enough milk, which needs to be refrigerated and- Do you know how to warm the milk up?"

Jill nodded readily after taking a few seconds to absorb all that she was saying; she was talking much too fast for her to keep up.

"Warm or boiling water, but don't boil the milk...and check that it's not too warm before giving it to her," she confirmed, her eyes rolling upwards as she tried to remember what she had read.

Claire smiled proudly to confirm that this was indeed true. She would never reveal it to the girl in question, but she was somewhat in awe of her expertise; she herself had not been as well prepared.

"Exactly," she told her, reaching into the bag at her side to produce two bottles of milk and hand them to Jill. "She just had a feed before we left the house so she'll probably not need anything for a few hours."

Jill examined the milk carefully, feeling the cool glass beneath her fingers as she carried the bottles to the kitchen, trying not to think too much about the contents.

"I also brought something for you," she shouted through, waiting until Jill had returned before she turned her attention away from her daughter and held out the plastic bags. "Just some maternity clothes I bought for the last couple of months. Some of them I never got round to wearing so they're brand new."

Jill laughed with gratitude as she accepted the gifts and peered inside with curiosity. She was quickly outgrowing the clothes she had and simply could not find enough energy to sustain a long shopping trip. Her plan was to simply raid Chris's T-shirt collection as she had been the past few weeks when in search of night clothes but even his large T-shirts were struggling to accommodate her.

"I also brought this," she continued, holding out the oddly-shaped cushion and raising her eyebrows as she drew a deep breath. "It's a maternity pillow. I know it looks weird but believe me, this will be your best friend for the next two months."

She stretched out the pillow before Jill had a chance to accept it and began to wave it around in a confused demonstration of its function.

"This bit goes between your legs, this bit round your bump and this bit to your back," she explained as she pointed to each section of the pillow and threw the older woman a look that begged her not to ask for a physical demonstration. "Chris mentioned that you were having trouble getting comfortable at night and this did help me a lot."

Jill's hand paused mid-air as she moved to accept this second gift.

"He did?" she asked timidly. Her husband's attentiveness never failed to amaze her but she never thought that he would take it further than what he could acheive himself. On top of that, his attitude as of late provoked a surprised response at the knowledge that he had actually picked up on her pain.

Claire smiled, thrusting the pillow into Jill's arms before she could give the matter another thought. Her eyes lit up, eyebrows raising skyward as though something crucial had just been brought to her attention.

"That reminds me," she hurried as she dove into the side pocket of what she had affectionately named her 'diaper bag'. "I found this when I was sorting through some old family photographs."

After a few more moments of frantic searching she let out a quiet 'ah ha!' and placed a small photograph into Jill's hands.

Jill allowed her eyes to fall to the matted surface, taking in the immortalised scene. It was obvious that the photograph was quite old; it had to it a certain sepia quality but though the colours were faded in places she could still make out two figures against a backdrop of trees and an old Chevrolet. One was a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties with short, neat mahogany hair and a smile she drew an immediate comparison to. The equally familiar woman at his side leaned into him lovingly, one hand around his waist, the other on a very large pregnant belly. She smiled at the image, noting that she had not seen a picture of her late in-laws so young. In the hopes of finding a date, she flipped over the photograph and found a faded sentence scrawled onto the photographic paper in a neat script.

_James, Kate and little Christopher, 1973._

"Little Christopher?" she commented, finding it hard to stifle a laugh.

"I bet you've never seen him _that_ young before." Claire laughed along with her, content beyond belief at the improvement in her friend's attitude, however small that improvement was.

"Kate..." Jill mused as she read the words a second, third and fourth time. "Short for Katherine?"

"You got me," Claire laughed. "I always knew that I would name my first daughter after mom. I really wish she could see us now, she would be so proud. More so that Chris finally settled down than anything else. She would have loved you, I'm sure of it...Leon I'm not so sure about. No man was ever going to be good enough for me...I know because no man is ever going to be enough for little Katie."

Jill was left to mull over these words as Claire turned back to her daughter, kneeling before the sofa as she muttered babbles that they were both sure Katherine would not understand.

It was obvious to everyone who knew the Redfields that their parents meant a lot to them both. Claire had only been eight years old when a drunken maniac at the wheel of a truck orphaned both her and her fourteen-year-old brother. Having lost her own mother at the age of seven, Jill knew how hard it was to deal with grief at such a young age. Claire had barely been offered the opportunity to know her parents but the loss still hit her in an unimaginable way. She would often blame their untimely deaths and the lack of support that followed for her obsession with motorbikes and living dangerously and Chris's explosive anger. It had simply been the way they dealt with their problems back then; Chris would fight his way through his emotions while she preferred to lose herself to the sensation of wind rushing past her as she tore down the highway with no regard for speed limitations.

It made her think harder about the bond she would no doubt develop with her own child. Would she compare to her own mother? Would her child love her as much as Chris loved his parents? Would they respect her? Would they make her proud? Would she make _them_ proud? What worried her the most was that she would be unable to provide them with all that they wanted and needed. On second thought she concluded that between herself and Chris she was sure they would manage.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Claire asked, looking between the other two girls dubiously. "I don't have to do this, I can ask Leon-"

"Claire," Jill spoke in a tone that meant business. "She'll be fine. She'll probably sleep through most of it, she won't know you're gone. You deserve a rest."

Claire gazed at Katherine one final time as the baby stirred within her blankets and emitted a short, sweet noise that could only be described as one of pure contentment.

"Alright," she announced, more to herself than to Jill, as she pushed herself to her feet. "She should be fine in the car seat, she sleeps better in there than she does in her crib and it's only for a few hours. When she's awake she does prefer to be held so just walk around with her. If there are any problems, any at all, call me. Leon will come round to pick her up later."

Jill cleared her throat loudly as Claire turned back to her sleeping infant and began to smile dreamily.

"I'm going, I'm going!" she protested before Jill could physically push her out of the front door. Jill waited several longs seconds until she heard the unmistakable thud of a car door slam before devoting the rest of her attention to the small child that continued to sleep peacefully in the padded car seat.

She found herself filled with an amazing sense of wonderment as she took in the minute detail of her niece's peaceful features. She found it difficult to believe that only five weeks ago she remained safely within her mother, putting Claire in more or less the same position as she was in. It unnerved her slightly to acknowledge that she was now alone in her pregnancy; she had not relied upon Claire for much but it was somewhat comforting to know that a close friend shared such an experience with her.

As she watched, tiny eyelids fluttered open, the eyes that they had covered moments before surveying their new surroundings for the smallest fraction of time before a pierching shriek rang through the large living area.

Such a sound had never been more terrifying to Jill's ears. Give her moans of the undead, give her inhuman bellows of monstrous bioweapons, but as soon as she heard a sound as natural as the cry of an infant her blood ran cold.

"Oh no," she muttered, pulling back the blanket that Claire had haphazardly placed over her daughter. Her fingers could not move fast enough over the restraints that gently held her in place. It was no regular car seat, appearing more like a moses basket than what Jill had observed the last time she witnessed a screaming baby being wrestled into the car. This only impeded her progress as she was not entirely sure which folds belonged to the car seat and which belonged to the blanket that Katherine had begun to grip with surprising force.

After a few long seconds of struggle her fingers were able to slip comfortably beneath the baby's pink one-piece and allow her to pick her up the way she had read and place her comfortably in her arms.

The sensation was unnatural, to say the least. She held Katherine high to her chest, finding it difficult to position her arms comfortably above her large protruding abdomen. The tiny infant did not struggle, choosing instead to lean towards the heat of her bosom and continue to screech as loud as was physically possible.

"You can't be hungry," Jill urged desperately, the pitch of her voice rising with panic. She felt so lost and so unsure, terrified that she held the baby wrong, that she was the cause of her distress. Had she not needed to remain calm and composed she was sure that she would have started to scream in a way that challenged and perhaps even surpassed her niece.

"Hush," she soothed as she began to gently rock the infant backwards and forwards in her arms as she moved past the settee, walking in circles at the base of the staircase. "It's okay, it's okay."

She was surprised to note that as she moved and hummed quietly, the cries began to subside until the only sound that remained was a low gurgle. It seemed as though Katherine found this new warmth and movement satisfying but her cessation of crying was only done begrudgingly. It brought a smile to Jill's lips as she drew comparisons between child and mother.

Katherine made no attempt to fall back into a peaceful slumber, seeming to find much more interest in observing her aunt and Godmother's weary features. Her expression was enough to melt Jill's fearful heart as she basked in the unconditional love and adoration that the infant showered upon her. Never before had she thought of herself as such a large part of a world so small. All she could do was stare back, smiling so widely that her cheeks ached from the pressure. Words fell from her lips, though she was not sure exactly what she was saying. She hoped that her words conveyed her happiness but she knew that the baby would not be able to understand them regardless.

Her head rose gently when she sensed movement by the foot of the stairs and suddenly became aware that she was not alone.

Chris leaned casually against the lowermost pole of the mahogany banister, sporting a smile to match her own. It was obvious to her immediately that he was lost in his own little world, the mask he continuously held to his eyes forgotten through lapse of concentration. Through his smile she could see the gleeful anticipation and the simple pride that he felt observing her with a small child in her arms.

As suddenly as it had settled in, the strangely fulfilling happiness began to leak out of her veins, leaving her nervous and fearful once again. The child in her arms served not as a reminder of the good times that were soon to come her way, but of the prospect of childbirth and rearing a child correctly and providing it with all it needed. No matter how many books she flicked through or how many conversations that took place between her midwife and herself, she remained with a feeling of utter helplessness and desperation, not at all helped by Chris's departure from reality. She had been told on many occasions by both Claire and her midwife that the antenatal classes she would be starting in the upcoming weeks would help with all unanswered questions but she chose not to acknowledge this assurance and adopted a nervous stance towards sitting in a room with other expectant mothers and pretending to know what to expect.

"Do you want to hold her?" she asked as she moved towards him, hoping that he would accept this offer.

"You seem to have it covered," he pointed out, his smile remaining brilliant but losing the warmth it had held moments before. Jill eyed him incredulously, surprised beyond description that he had refused the opportunity to hold his niece, his own flesh and blood.

"Besides," he continued as his nose wrinkled. "I think someone needs a change of diaper."

Jill raised her eyebrows, so sure that he was hiding behind this excuse until the smell hit her.

"Oh no," she muttered, rocking Katherine again as she began to cry. "Help me...I need you to get the changing mat out of the bag." She used her shoulder to signal to the light brown satchel beneath the plastic bags of maternity clothes and Chris obeyed without question, finding the mat with ease.

Blind panic once again seized her as she looked around for some place to carry out the gruelling task at hand. Her eyes initially flitted to the floor but her brain deemed it ridiculously stupid to change a diaper anywhere near their perfectly clean cream carpet. The coffee table? Too low, she would never be able to get back on her feet. As the options swam through her mind she caught sight of the large dining table out of the corner of her eye and cursed her innate stupidity.

"Dining table," she announced, voice quaking as much as her legs were. "Just bring the whole bag over."

Katherine was laid gently onto the padded changing mat and her delicate pink one-piece was carefully removed. It seemed that she acknowledged what it was that Jill was trying to do as her cries began to fade out.

"Okay, okay," she breathed through her nerves, realising that she had not yet reached chapters that dealt with changing, bathing and generally keeping a newborn clean. A magazine she had casually flipped through prior to an appointment with her midwife had touched upon the subject but she could not for the life of her remember all of the details or which sequence they followed.

The tabs of the diaper opened easily but she was all too aware of her audience and began to mentally curse her husband for leaving her to fend for herself. This fact was made all the more irritating by the items he had removed from the bag and placed next to the changing mat; he knew damn well how to change a diaper but was choosing to take a back seat.

As she folded the bottom half of the diaper over the mess Katherine had left it suddenly hit her that perhaps he was not offering to take over because he thought that she would value the practice more than he did. Still, it unnerved her that he obviously knew more about caring for a newborn than she did. She had assumed that aftercare was not something that an expectant mother learned until the antenatal classes and serious reading began but Chris was walking proof that she was more behind in her preparation than she had initially thought.

This knowledge caused her hands to tremble as she continued to work, glancing between Chris and Katherine every few seconds to ensure that she was proceeding as she should. Chris did not speak, did not frown, did not even look at her as she lifted Katherine's legs and began to wipe, removing the soiled diaper before she placed her lower half gently back onto the mat.

'Cleaned, removed diaper....now lotion,' she thought to herself, unsure if she was remembering correctly. Chris's presence gave her a sudden small boost of confidence as she realised that if she was doing something wrong he would no doubt have corrected her.

She slowly reached for the small white lotion bottle, checking the label three times over before she realised that she had forgotten the most important element of changing a diaper.

"Um...can you pass me a clean diaper please?," she requested, hoping upon all hope that he had not noticed her little moment of forgetfulness. She was grateful for the encouraging, blameless smile that he flashed her as she took the diaper out of his hands and began to open it up, making sure she had the right ends facing the right way before she lifted Katherine's ankles once again and slid the diaper beneath her.

She noticed for a moment that Chris had turned away, his attention devoted to something beyond the glass doors that led to the garden. She seized this opportunity to apply the lotion and fold the front half of the diaper onto the now-silent baby. As her fingers reached around for the tabs she assumed would be there to help her close it they were met with nothing but the smooth plastic of the changing mat and Katherine's warm skin.

In an instant her confidence evaporated, panic seizing her like never before as she continued to fumble around for the tabs, even pulling the front of the diaper back down as though it would make them magically appear.

"Jill?" Chris asked cautiously, sensing her panic. The realisation that he had caught her out pushed her level of panic far past reasonable and she backed off, hands raised in defeat.

"I can't do it!" she gasped desperately. "I can't do it, it won't- I can't."

Before Chris could react to her defeat she turned and rushed into the kitchen, washing her hands hastily in the hope that she would be able to run upstairs before he finished the job. Fate, it would seem, did not wish to let her off so easily and she heard Chris calling her name the moment she stepped back through the kitchen door.

"Redress her and put her back to sleep while I wash my hands, will you?" he asked, not once allowing his eyes to fall on her. Before she could object he moved past her with the diaper bag in one hand, leaving her alone with her niece. As strong as the urge to run was, she knew that she could not leave her on her own, neither did she want to. So, she obliged, pushing thrashing arms and legs into a new white one-piece Chris had placed beside the changing mat.

Katherine's eyes fluttered shut again as soon as she was back in Jill's arms and for the briefest of moments she envied the girl; she would have given anything to live a life where all that concerned her was sleep, when she could close her eyes and disappear into dreams when the world became too much for her. She barely knew the meaning of sleep, having been deprived of quality rest for the best part of a week.

The child in her arms felt more fragile then than anything she had held in the past. Her failure weighed heavy on her disorganised mind and she embraced the shame that accompanied such a disaster. It was a diaper, a simple diaper. She knew childless women who knew how to change diapers yet there she was, twenty-nine weeks pregnant and she couldn't even close the damn thing. This lack of knowledge brought with it the realisation that it was not the only essential task that she could not perform. She knew how to feed a newborn and how to warm up chilled human milk but had no idea how to use a breast pump or the correct way to hold a child while breastfeeding. The simple task of bathing a small child eluded her, as did comforting a distraught baby. She knew that the umbilical stump must be properly looked after but did not know how to do this, just as she did not know how to baby-proof the various rooms of the house.

It worried her that she could defuse a number of explosive devices, knew how to efficiently take down over a dozen different forms of bioweaponry and where best to apply pressure to incapacitate without killing the victim but could not attach one end of a diaper to the other.

"You had put it on upside down," Chris spoke as he observed her place the baby back into the car seat and cover her once again with the soft blanket.

She drew in a deep breath, searching through the murky depths of her mind to find a few words to string together to describe how she felt before he began to probe. It would have been so much easier to lie, to fob him off with a 'lack of sleep' excuse, but she had been completely open and honest with him for the last few weeks, announcing her feelings every time she felt herself sliding downhill, and she wasn't about to stop now. Truth be told, she enjoyed the release that honesty endowed upon her. Chris had offered to share the burden that she carried and she found that it was much easier to deal with the weight upon her shoulders if someone helped to carry the weight.

Despite her preparations, the questions never came.

"I can't even fasten a diaper," she pointed out, the words rushing forth before she could fathom a reason for his sudden lack of interest. However, her words appeared to catch his attention and he raised a hand to his shower-damp hair, drawing a deep rattling breath.

"It was an easy mistake to make," he told her, his eyes fixed on the arm of the deep brown sofa, avoiding hers at all cost. "It was a plain diaper, no patterns. I probably would have done it myself."

"But you knew how to fix it," she sighed, his silent pleas to end the conversation before it began failing to reach her. "You're not the one who is pregnant, you're not the one who should know these things."

His sigh reached her moments before he lowered himself onto the sofa, sensing the futility of such an argument.

"Jill, just drop it," he begged. "It's no big deal."

"It is to me!" she hissed, keeping her voice low for the sake of the sleeping baby.

She could sense unexpected pain in his stance, watching helplessly as his head fell into his hands in a submissive act that she rarely saw him perform. His fingers bent as they moved against his temples, easing the pressure that built up within. Had she not allowed herself to slip into her usual pessimistic frame of mind she would have attempted to comfort him but she picked up only on his pain, not his distress. They had shared so much pain for so long that it was a familiar experience for both of them.

"In roughly eleven weeks I'm not going to be pregnant anymore," she breathed, her emotions seizing control of her vocal cords against her brain's better judgement. "What kind of mother will I be if I can't even look after my own child?"

Her words hit Chris with a force neither of them anticipated and he leapt to his feet and moved towards her so suddenly that she found herself backing off. In one swift movement he gripped her arm and began to pull her towards the dining area, where there noise would not affect their niece so much.

"Don't say that!" he seethed, his anger frightening her a little. "Of course you're scared, of course you're nervous, that's what the damn books and classes are for; to prepare us so we won't go into this feeling like we're fumbling in the dark. You know damn well that you're going to be a good mother so-"

Jill did not know where her strength came from. She did not even realise that she had touched him until he stumbled backwards and her palms stung from the force with which she had slammed them into his hard chest.

"Don't you ever _dare_ speak to me in that tone!" she growled, her lips moving back over her teeth in a ferocious snarl. "If you want to take your anger out on someone, fine, but don't throw it at me!"

Her anger clouded what was left of her reasoning and she failed to see the reaction that her retaliation was awarded. For a moment so brief it was perhaps not worth mentioning, Chris's eyes met hers and the hope he had relinquised weeks ago pressed against the walls he had been in the process of building with enough force to make them tremble precariously.

When his eyes left hers they did not return, the hope shrinking back into the darkness as she continued to voice thoughts that he had begun to wish she would just keep to herself.

"I'm a soldier, not a housewife," she pressed on, her voice breaking as the anger faded away. "I've killed people, I've tortured, I- I'm not the kind of person that would be allowed anywhere near a child, let alone left to raise one."

She opened her mouth to continue but no sound escaped, her throat seizing up in a twist of fate she could only describe as a blessing. Chris reacted to her voiced thoughts in the same manner he had for near on three weeks; with a broken sigh and a deeply troubled expression.

"Jill, please don't do this," he begged, startling her with the pitiful quality that his voice adopted.

Words suddenly failed her. She had known him long enough to expect a retaliation of sorts, a desperate insistance that she was being ridiculous. He made no attempt to ease her mind, choosing instead to shy away from the subject at hand. His expression was enough to betray the pain that burned beneath his skin.

Her lips parted as she prepared to press him for answers before she was hit with the realisation that she simply did not know what to say. Not only could she not find the words to voice her concern, but the will to continue with announcing her feelings suddenly left her. All that remained was a deep confusion and worry for her other half.

'I thought this was what he wanted?'

* * *

Jill had grown used to the emptiness of the house, with Chris at work most days of the week. She did not know if she had sent him to the supermarket to genuinely satisfy her latest craving or to force him to get some fresh air in the hopes that he would loosen up a little. Eventually she came to the reasonable conclusion that both possibilities were true but it nevertheless left her disturbed that she had thought pushing him away, even if only for half an hour, was the best solution to their current problem.

She sighed as she leaned further back into the soft cushions of the sofa and turned to observe her niece, who slept by her side.

Chris had always been reluctant to confront his own emotions or to share them with others and she had witnessed the effect that this bottling-up had on his wellbeing. He was nothing if he wasn't obsessive; so hellbent on the task at hand that he was often unaware of just how deep into danger he was pushing himself and how much his actions were affecting those around him. The BSAA seemed to change him and every plan he had, he ran it by Jill and made sure that she was one hundred per cent happy with it before proceeding. She knew that it was the simple trust and closeness between the partners that aided him in this area. For the most part, the BSAA left them to their own devices and this worked out in favour of both parties; during their time with the BSAA, not a single mission they were assigned to failed...even the disastrous apprehension of Ozwell Spencer had been branded a success due to the apparant deaths of both Spencer and Albert Wesker.

A long conversation with Sheva following their return to the BSAA West Africa division's headquarters had informed her that Chris's actions during the Kijuju mission echoed behavioural patterns that she had long thought him to have abandoned. Sheva echoed Jill's belief that Chris had not really changed; it was Jill's presence and impeccable reasoning that had kept him in line. The younger woman had also stated her belief that Chris was not emotionally intact to the extent required for active service at that time, still haunted by grief and regret.

'I wish he would tell me what happened when I was gone,' she thought to herself. Anyone could see just how much she meant to Chris...she herself could not bear the thought of losing him in such a way.

Seperating was never easy for them, even under less distressing circumstances.

_She moved stealthily through the dimly lit hallway, her nerves on edge as she continued to glance around in fearful anticipation. It was a natural reaction that had settled in since their return from the mansion. Every day the pain of losing their friends became a little easier to bear but she knew that the events that had claimed their lives would haunt them all for a long time to come. She had overheard Chris tell the young rookie that nothing could have prepared any of them for what happened and she knew that he was right. The only issue that continued to trouble her was what to do now?_

_Being a member of S.T.A.R.S. had lost all meaning to her and she felt as though a large part of her life had been destroyed. The boys had been her brothers, the S.T.A.R.S. office her home away from home. Never before had she felt such a strong sense of belonging as she had within that team. It caused her unimaginable pain to accept that her 'brothers' were gone and her 'home' had been a lie from the start._

_Though there was one member of the team that she had never looked upon as a brother, continuously confused about her feelings for him. Her partner had always been a baffling case in her eyes; one minute they would be tearing each other apart, the next they would be on his sofa with a beer in one hand while they simply enjoyed each other's company. His professional abilities amazed her to the point of admiration but ultimately her feelings for him developed far past what could be passed off as respect._

_No matter how strong her feelings for him may have been, she had grown increasingly frustrated with him the past fortnight. For the two weeks immediately following the incident he had been her rock, sleeping in her apartment most nights while they talked through their pain. It embarrassed her to acknowledge that she had thought their relationship was changing for the better, that they were mere days away from finding comfort on a more intimate level. Then, without warning, he had withdrawn his support, locking himself in his apartment for days on end and failing to return her calls._

_His behaviour worried her to such an extent that when a phone call from Chris roused her from her sleep she could do nothing but quickly dress herself and rush over to his apartment, as he had requested._

_When she reached the door to his apartment she noticed that it had been left ajar and no light spilled out into the empty hallway. She pressed an arm to her side, feeling momentary comfort as her sidearm pressed into her ribs. There was no way in hell she would leave home without it, not after what she had been through._

_It took a few moments after she stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her to find the light switch. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the intensity of the glare before she gasped in shock at the sight before her._

_Chris lived in a typical man's apartment but for the most part he kept it clean and in order, at least to the best of his ability. Never before had she witnessed a mess the likes of which awaited her. __Old take-out cartons were piled haphazardly onto the small coffee table, empty beer bottles and spent cigarette stumps taking up the little space they left. Papers had been hastily pinned to the surface of the walls, words scrawled onto many sheets in Chris's masculine script. Jill chose to ignore the seemingly meaningless rambles and moved towards the overflowing waste basket beside his worn green sofa._

_"I didn't think you'd come," she heard as she bent down to pick up an empty cigarette carton. Her friend's sudden appearance caused her to jump, cursing his inconsiderate way of announcing his presence._

_"Shit," she swore. "You almost gave me a heart attack! You know how jumpy I've been lately."_

_He muttered a half-hearted apology, offering a hand to help her to her feet._

_"What the hell happened here?" she asked, signalling to the mess that surrounded her. "Please tell me you didn't smoke all of these."_

_Chris snatched away the empty carton that she brandished in front of him and threw it back in the trash with the rest. The light above them was dim and barely illuminated their surroundings but it was all that she needed to notice the dark circles beneath his eyes and the stubble that coated his usually clean-shaven jaw._

_"What happened to you?" she breathed, reaching up to grip the collar of his T-shirt. He made no attempt to push her away, instead looking her dead in the eyes as he prepared to speak._

_"Jill, we need to talk."_

_"Damn right we do!" she shouted, following him as he led her into his dark bedroom. "Do you care to tell me why you have been acting so strange the past couple of weeks? Why you will barely even talk to me? How about Elran? You knew damn well that was an accident! I know you can be a complete dick when you want to but even this is pushing it for you."_

_Chris did not reply and instead turned to the printer on his desk, pulling a few sheets of paper from the tray and handing them to his frustrated partner. Jill wasted no time in snatching them out of his hands, noting that they were slightly warm against her skin. Her eyes scanned the surface of the paper, acknowledging but not understanding the letters and symbols that seemed to dance across the white. It did not take long for her gaze to fall upon a familiar red and white logo and suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle she had been struggling with for days seemed to fall into place._

_"It's a virus report," he explained, maintaining a respectful distance. "It's incomplete but it's something. It was encrypted into the data you hacked from Dr. Anderson's system."_

_While Jill had never been a thief herself, her father had taught her many skills that he thought would be useful, 'just in case'. These skill were not unknown to the others and when Rebecca approached them with information found in connection to an Umbrella scientist she found herself carrying out an illegal search of the researcher's home. She had thought it to be pure luck that she had stumbled across information that perhaps should not have left the office; plans for an underground laboratory that lay beneath the city. The realisation that they lived above such a facility shocked them to the core but it was not difficult to see how they had operated unseen for such a long time; Umbrella owned most of the city and were no strangers to bribery. Despite the information at hand, it was not nearly enough evidence to put together a case against the corporation and with so many employees within the city it would be nigh on impossible to find representation._

_"But this is labelled 'G'...the virus in the Arklay facility was labelled 'T'," she pointed out. Chris simply met her gaze to confirm her worried thoughts. "There's another virus? Oh God…"_

_"It looks like the nightmare still continues," he lamented. "It's not over yet."_

_Jill reached out for his desk to steady herself as she processed this new information. With the reports of continued attacks and disappearances and now this new virus, she knew that something big was not far off. Of course the outbreak in the mansion lab had spread to the Arklay forest and the explosion destroyed only a small portion of the forest area. Somewhere, something had survived._

_"All this time…" Jill breathed, turning her attention to her partner. "You've been doing this all alone?"_

_Chris turned away from her, stepping towards the large, uncovered window in an attempt to psychically avoid her question even though he knew that she did not expect an answer._

_"Why?" she asked, closing the distance between them. "Chris, you know I would have helped you. I'm your damn partner!"_

_"You had enough on your mind."_

Jill let a sigh escape through gritted teeth. She appreciated his well-placed concern on a personal level but his reluctance to include her in a revenge they shared the desire for thoroughly annoyed her.

_"All that has been on my mind over the last week has been _you_," she seethed. "You can't distance yourself from your friends and expect them not to worry. I want to help with this, I need it as much as you do."_

_Chris smiled in reluctant understanding. He knew that Jill was all too aware of his tendency to take on more than he could handle and to push away his problems rather than address them. His smile helped to comfort Jill a little but her worry for the man before her remained._

_"I'm leaving Raccoon," he stated, this time choosing not to avert his gaze._

_Jill could feel anger and panic bubbling inside of her and did not know which emotion would seize control of her first._

_"What?" she demanded furiously, no longer caring if her elevated voice woke the neighbours. "Chris, you can't!"_

_Her arms rose of their own volition, once again gripping his T-shirt tightly as though she were physically trying to prevent him from leaving. She knew that they all needed each other if they were to pull through the aftermath in one piece, and they sure as hell needed to watch each other's backs with a corporation as powerful as Umbrella after their heads._

_Chris did not object to her outburst and instead reached for her arms gently, the warmth of his touch calming her momentarily._

_"It's the most logical step," he explained slowly. "We're not going to get the answers we need here. Umbrella's main headquarters are in Paris...that is where we need to be."_

_His use of 'we' and not 'I' drew her attention but did not warm her to the idea._

_"But they have a larger presence in Raccoon," she countered. "The lab at least is worth checking out."_

_"Jill..."_

_She knew that there was no use arguing with him; when Chris Redfield had his mind set on something, nothing short of a hurricane could stop him. Helplessness sank in at the realisation that there was not a damn thing she could do to make him stay._

_"I'm flying out next week," he informed her. "Jill, I want you to come with me."_

_Though the response was obvious from the start, she could not find the will to speak the words. Her heart interrupted her thoughts, reminding her that he had not mentioned the other survivors...just her. His worry was evident in every detail of his being and it spoke volumes._

_When she did not reply, he cleared his throat and spoke again._

_"I'd say I want you with me because you're my partner and I can't do this without you, but there's also another reason. Truth be told, I don't want you anywhere near Raccoon. I've been watching the news and...I've just got a bad feeling about this. Something big is about to kick off and I don't want you around here when that happens."_

_His words touched her deeply and her heart whispered a quick 'ha, told you so!'. Years of being let down by love had taught her not to get too ahead of herself and she knew that his concern was merely as her friend._

_"I'm a big girl, Chris, I can handle myself," she insisted with a smile, surprising them both when she did not berate him for being over-protective as she usually did._

_"I know that," he sighed, reaching up a hand to push several stray strands of hair out of her eyes. "Jill, you're my best friend. On top of that, you are the only person I feel that I can trust completely. Brad left us, Barry almost got us all killed and I hardly know Rebecca. I'm not going to lie for the sake of being appropriate; I _need_ you. I can't fight Umbrella on my own. You...you will always be my partner, even when S.T.A.R.S. becomes a thing of the past. It doesn't make sense to do this without you."_

_Bitterly returning her heart's sentiment she nodded as she adopted a more professional manner. Her feelings had no place in matters such as this. She was his partner above everything and partners always had each other's backs, they stood by each other through thick and thin. While she knew that this perfectly described both their professional and personal relationship, she knew that the decision she had come to betrayed that very sentiment._

_"I can't," she told him, her heart sinking as his hands left her arms. If she was not mistaken she could have sworn that he appeared a little hurt._

_"Jill, you-"_

_"No," she spoke firmly, asserting her position before he could sweet-talk her around as she knew he would. "There may be something important here in Raccoon. I have to stay and investigate the lab."_

_"Then-"_

_"No!"_

_Her voice lingered in the air for several long seconds after she had spoken. Chris appeared a little taken aback by her sudden aggressiveness but she could see that she had caught his attention as intended._

_"Chris, you know that this is most logical," she breathed. "Barry is relocating his family, Rebecca is out of the city visiting hers and Brad seems too afraid to be this involved. That leaves us. If you fly out next week you can get everything ready for us. If I can't find anything within a month then I'll drop it and join you."_

_The resignation in Chris's expression told her that he had cast aside his personal feelings and seen that she had a very valid point._

_"One month," he confirmed. "If you're not out of here in one month then one of us is coming to get you. I want regular reports and you don't do a damn thing without clearing it with us first. Clear?"_

_"There's my partner," she said with a smile he couldn't help but return._

_Chris's gameface slipped as silence fell between them and he raised a hand to his hair, the moonlight casting an ethereal blue glow against his skin. He still bore many wounds from their lucky escape but his hands remained relatively unscathed. Jill could not help but to stare as he remained oblivious to the direction of her gaze. Her breathing became heavy as she imagined those hands gliding over her skin, holding her close as he-_

_"Have you spoken to Claire?" she muttered unevenly in an attempt to shake off her inappropriate thoughts._

_If Chris noticed her uneasiness he did not let it show._

_"No," he answered. "It's best if she doesn't know; she would only want to get involved and I don't want that. She's nineteen years old, she's in college....she has her whole life ahead of her and I don't want her to drop all that and put herself in danger just because of me."_

_Jill nodded in understanding. Claire was a strong-willed girl and should she find out what her brother was doing she would want to help. She had not spoken to the girl a lot but Jill knew that she had temper to rival her brother's and even Chris stood no chance of getting her to stand down. They always did say that the female of every species was worse than the male and this was especially true where the Redfields were concerned._

_She could sense her partner's inner dilemma and before she knew what she was doing, her arms were around his neck, her body pressed loosely against his._

_"She'll be fine," she assured him. "Even Claire is not reckless enough to come after you when she has no idea where to start."_

_The warmth that surrounded her as his arms tenderly reciprocated her friendly embrace lit a fire deep within the pit of her stomach and she did not fail to notice the toned muscles that pressed against her. Six months of unexplored sexual tension crackled between them and she knew that he felt it too. Their eyes met suddenly and neither one of them seemed willing to break the moment._

_"Do you want me to stay tonight?" she asked, hoping that he would request that she did._

_"It depends," he smiled. "Are you going to let me drive you home?"_

_"Not a chance in hell," she laughed, knowing that there was no way that he would let her leave on her own. He had been extremely protective not only over her but over his other friends in the days that had followed the loss of their teammates. She knew the feeling; they had lost so much that none of them were capable of losing anything or anyone else. She had always yelled at him whenever he showed signs of protecting her but she let him have free reign because she knew that he needed it._

_He held onto her for a few moments longer and when he stepped away he allowed his fingers to trail down her arms._

_"I'll be fine," she reassured him one last time. "We all will."_

She smiled at the memory of that night eleven years ago. He had seemed somewhat ashamed upon realising that he had allowed his emotions to get such a powerful hold on his reasoning. It was also the first sign she had picked up on that he perhaps cared for her as little more than a friend.

She laughed as she recalled how he had spent his last week in Raccoon not preparing for Paris but instead helping her and Brad (who had reluctantly been persuaded to help) with their investigation in the hopes that they would find enough information to render her remaining in Raccoon pointless.

He had bottled his feelings inside as he struggled alone in the days prior to their midnight meeting and she knew that history was repeating itself now.

She only wished that he had not chosen to give up completely this time. Anger, she could deal with, but it was his silence that worried her.

A loud knock on the front door chased her thoughts away and with much effort she managed to push herself to her feet.

The light breeze that drifted into the house as she pulled open the door proved most pleasant and she allowed herself to enjoy it for the briefest of moments before looking up into the eyes of her neighbour.

"Wow," Travis commented, his steel blue eyes drawn immediately to her swolen stomach. "You're-"

"If you say 'big' or any word with similar connotations you can kiss goodbye to the hope of ever fathering kids of your own, mister," she promised, raising an immaculately-plucked eyebrow to emphasise her seriousness.

Travis swallowed his words, suddenly too afraid to look anywhere south of her neck.

"Radiant," he said with a smile, though they both knew that it was not the word that had initially come to mind.

"Come in," Jill laughed as she accepted his replacement greeting and moved aside to let him pass.

She noticed that his hair was a little shorter than it had been last time they had spoken, now more or less the same length as Chris's. There was also a lot more colour in his cheeks and had she not known any better she would have sworn that his eyes seemed much lighter.

"You look...different," she commented as she pointed towards the dining area. Travis followed her without a sound, his head turning in every direction as he searched for the husband that appeared to be absent.

"Thanks," he accepted with a grin. "I, uh- I retired from the Corps. Thought it was time I moved on and I think it's done me more good that I thought it would."

His admission startled Jill and she leaned on the back of the chair she had intended to sit on, tilting her head as she attempted to discern whether or not he was joking.

"You did?" was all she could offer, her eyes open wide as her lips remained parted. "Why?"

Travis shrugged as he averted his gaze, staring down at his worn sneakers.

"I went back for training," he explained. "It just...it didn't feel right. It was like my heart wasn't in it anymore. I guess that chapter of my life is over. Being a Marine was always something I was proud of and I can't believe that it's over but you gotta do what you gotta do, you know?"

Jill finally slipped into the mahogany dining chair and hummed in agreement. It was exactly how she felt with S.T.A.R.S. following their night at the Spencer mansion and how she had felt with the B.S.A.A. once she had safely returned from captivity.

An idea formed in her distant mind and she suddenly looked up at her neighbour, noting the prominent muscles that bulged on his tanned arms, the thin scar that ran halfway along the length of his forearm and the bottom of a tattoo he shared with his former colleagues protruding from beneath the sleeve of his dark khaki T-shirt. She knew that he had many more on his back and shoulders and each one of them was a testament to a life that had meant so much to him.

"Have you considered joining the B.S.A.A.?" she asked.

Travis raised his eyebrows as he shook his head slowly.

"We're always looking for new recruits," she explained. "Most of our recruits are ex-military or ex-law enforcement. It's not like the military where you go on tour for months at a time; most missions don't last longer than a month and as an agent you get to choose which assignments you participate in. If you don't want to go back into active service there's a couple of vacancies for training instructors at the moment and I think the North American branch is looking for a few intelligence analysts. They provide training and the benefits package is nothing to be scoffed at."

Travis's eyes lit up as he considered her suggestion with great thought.

"It doesn't hurt to be friends with two of the founding members," she added with a wink. "I'm sure we could pull some strings and get you an interview."

Travis laughed heartily and the simple, natural sound warmed Jill from the inside. She could see the internal dilemma that he was faced with and it felt good to know that she had helped on some level.

"You know, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea," he smiled. "I'll give it some thought."

A short, sharp tickling sensation in her throat caused Jill to push herself to her feet, padding heavily across the carpet to the kitchen with the intention of filling a glass of water.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked over her shoulder. "Chris shouldn't be long."

"I didn't come to see Chris."

The voice behind her caused her to jump, startled by the close proximity of his sudden reappearance.

"I actually waited until I saw him leave before I came over," Travis explained nervously, plunging his finers into the front pockets of his jeans.

"Oh?" Jill feigned curiosity, much more interested in the slow trickled of water that flowed from the filter jug into her glass than in what he had to say.

Travis sensed her lack of interest and sighed impatiently. She knew that whenever the men of the neighbourhood called her up or dropped by it was always to ask for some favour or another. As luck would have it, her sometimes terrifying hormonal mood swings had scared most of them off but she knew that Travis was nothing if not stubborn and dim when it came to matters involving women. It was a trait he shared with her dear husband.

"I...well, I overheard your conversation with Anna the other day," he rushed, his words melding together so that Jill had to concentrate to decipher what it was that he had said.

Ice cold water flowed over the side of the small glass, covering her hands before flowing into a shallow pool on the counter top. She breathed a soft curse as she reached for the kitchen roll and began to mop up the mess. She fumed at her momentary lack of composure but her hands continued to tremble and she knew that it was not from the temperature of the water.

"Don't you think it's a bit rude to listen in on private conversations?" she asked curtly, making it clear that she was less than impressed.

"I'm sorry," he apologised with haste, raising his hands defensively. "I was in the kitchen and for what it's worth I went back outside as soon as I realised what you were talking about. Look, if you and Chris are having problems it's nothing to be ashamed of. You-"

Jill furiously slammed the glass against the counter, its contents erupting over the sides and undoing all of her frantic cleaning.

"It's also none of your damn business!" she growled.

"If that's the case then maybe you should learn to close the windows when you decide to pick a fight."

Travis's words stunned her and she stepped backwards, water that dripped from the edge of the counter soaking through the thin material of her top. The sudden chill that it provided soothed her burning skin but she found herself unable to appreciate the release.

Travis made no attempt to further their conversation, his eyes locked firmly on hers to show that he wasn't going to back down. It infuriated Jill to the point where she let out a frustrated cry and moved out of the kitchen, back into the living area to check on her niece.

"For the record, we could never hear what you were saying," he offered as he followed her, much to her dismay. "And when we found out that you were pregnant we just laughed because we thought that was the reason. But it's not, is it?"

His words proved more chilling than the icy droplets that continued to slide down her spine. If there was one feeling that she hated, it was that of feeling open and vulnerable; as though strangers could see into the depths of her soul. She had dealt with so much conflict in her life that she was proud of the defense system she had constructed. It therefore unnerved her when her defenses failed and she was left naked and exposed.

"I'm not here to preach or to tell you to get your act together," Travis insisted. "Nor am I here to empathise with you because I know that is impossible."

She welcomed this new approach and turned her attention back to him once she ensured that Katherine still slept soundly. Outside, tires whirred audibly against the stone driveway and Travis seemed to take this to heart, reaching back into his jean pocket and pulling out a small sliver of thick, folded paper. Jill did not question him as he moved towards her, both individuals listening carefully for the telltale slam of a car door.

"Truth is, I didn't snap out of my funk on my own," he whispered, failing to see the futility of disguising his voice. "I was like you, I didn't see the point in therapy. Hell, it scared the shit out of me. One of my commanding officers referred me and the other survivors to someone and...well, I never expected to feel like this again, like I'm in control of my own life. I know you can appreciate that. I just thought..."

He sighed softly and held out the paper, pushing his fingers back into his pockets as soon as she accepted it.

Curiosity overcame her and she pulled the edges apart to see a local telephone number in barely-legible handwriting. She knew what it was before Travis could explain and was filled once again with a sensation somewhere between nausea and fear.

"Her name is Constance Beaumont," he pointed out as her eyes scanned the name and number over and over until each and every hastily-scribed curve was seared into her retina. "She's a psychologist, but she's... She specialises in post-traumatic stress-related problems, especially related to captivity. She was a mental health nurse for the Air Force before she went private, so she knows her stuff. A lot of the armed forces regiments that operate out of this area of the state send their soldiers to her if their own staff can't help. Last I checked the B.S.A.A. have a similar arrangement."

The sudden scrape of a key in the lock of the front door caused them both to jump and Jill pushed the paper into her own pocket before Chris had entered the house.

She could sense Travis's nervousness but could tell by her husband's casual "hey" that he had not picked up on any such disturbance. As she expected, he offered her little more than a smile as he carried his recent purchases through to the kitchen. The 'told you so' look that Travis threw her annoyed her with its accuracy.

Sensing that he had overstayed his welcome, Travis whispered a final plea before he left her with the number and her husband.

"You better eat these," Chris spoke, snapping her from her curious thoughts and surprising her a little as he walked over with a familiar paper bag in his hand. "The supermarket was fresh out of chocolate donuts so I had to detour to Krispy Kreme."

She could not grab the bag quick enough, those simple two words causing her heart to perform a dizzying sequence of acrobatics in her chest. The emotional response was enough to cause a slight movement within her abdomen and she laughed gleefully as she pressed a hand against the side of her bump in a successful attempt to settle her child.

"Oh man," she moaned as she inhaled the thick, chocolatey scent that escaped from the open bag. "So this is what heaven smells like..."

Chris laughed loudly and honestly and suddenly she didn't give a damn about the donuts, or the chocolate she could feel clinging to her upper lip as she bit into one with such ferocity anyone would have believed that she had not eaten in weeks. The carefree, boyish smile had returned and she did not care that he was laughing at her expense; she was happy that he was laughing at all.

With this momentary bliss came the realisation that she was clinging to this rare moments with a little too much hope. If she learned to accept their current situation then nothing would be done to put things back the way they were. She was finding pregnancy difficult enough to cope with and knew that it would get a hell of a lot harder once she actually gave birth.

"Thank you," she spoke, though she was forced to repeat herself when her words were muffled by the obscene amount of dough she was attempting to chew.

It provoked another laugh and he reached to pluck the bag from her grasp, lest she plough through them quicker than she was able to handle.

"It's not a problem," he laughed, rolling the top of the paper bag over itself. "Just try not to eat them all at once; the store closes at nine."

As he turned to take what remained back into the kitchen and no doubt hide them somewhere she could not find them she glanced down at the corner of the paper that protruded from her front jean pocket. At least, she tried. She hacked and coughed as she inhaled a small piece of dough through laughing at herself and as soon as she succeeded in dislodging it she reached around her belly and brought the small, seemingly insignificant item into view. Her growing abdomen was one obstacle she knew would still manage to outsmart her until the day it began to shrink.

Despite the smooth note that rested casually yet firmly between her fingers, she found her attention remaining with her small, undeveloped passenger. She was aware of the changes that had been going on inside of her, to an extent that was often frightening. Despite the mood swings, hot flushes and other inconvenient side effects, the outward evidence was just as alarming. Her most obvious physical change was not exactly what she would call sexy and on top of that she knew that her feet were beginning to swell a little, she often felt too hot and sweaty to venture outside and the looming threat of stretch marks was not exactly boosting her confidence. She had seen other pregnant women and had marvelled at how attractive and feminine they looked...where she was concerned this could not be farther from the truth.

'I wonder if he just finds me unattractive?' she thought, gloomily realising that his sudden aversion to her could in fact be due to these very changes. It made for a brighter scenario than the others she had theorised but she felt that it was just as damning.

Jill had never felt overly attractive and she had never cared, but after so many years of a man she cared so deeply about calling her beautiful, it was an opinion she had grown to value.

She moved towards the kitchen at a comfortable pace, not failing to realise how heavy her footsteps were. Sneaking up on someone was impossible at this point.

"Chris," she spoke softly, not wanting to surprise him as he finished loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

He hummed quietly to show that he was listening but did not turn towards her.

The urge to bite her tongue was overwhelming but she reminded herself of her promise and attempted to force her thoughts into the open in the form of a question.

"You don't think I'm hideous, do you?"

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as deep, burning embarassment overcame her, knowing that she couldn't possbily have phrased the question in a more childishly humiliating way.

'Yeah, way to go. You sounded like a complete idiot.'

It was another reminder of the unwanted effects of pregnancy; her mind was all over the place and she had begun to assume that she had the mental age of a teenager.

To say that her curiosity shocked Chris would have been an understatement. His eyes widened, a loud whir spinning through the silence as his finger slipped against the power button, prematurely starting the dishwasher's program.

"Do I..._what_?" came his oh-so-coherent reply.

Jill's embarassment spiralled out of control and her moist fingers raised to her face to hide her shame. The heat that radiated from her palms white hot against the sensitive skin of her face, she could feel blood rush to her cheeks as she willed the ground to swallow her up.

It seemed that her pleas fell on deaf ears as her hands were pulled away from her face with great effort on her husband's part and cool air soothed her burning cheeks.

"I'm fat," she spoke, once again cursing her lack of grace but realising that her brain would not allow her to think in adult terms. "I have gas almost all the time, my feet are swelling and I can't even walk upstairs without breaking a sweat. Put simply, I'm not the most attractive thing on the planet right now."

Chris's eyes clouded over as they rolled ever so slightly in a 'not this again' movement.

Happiness hit her somewhere deep in her gut. Had she struck gold? It was not quite the reaction she had been looking for but it was a reaction nonetheless.

"You're pregnant," he reminded her. "I've seen you covered in blood, guts and gore and still found you attractive. You're beautiful, you always have been and-"

Chris choked on his last word, seeming to fight internally with something. Jill could do nothing but watch on, wondering what it was that bothered him so. She could tell how genuine his words were, which eliminated her pregnancy as a cause for concern.

Only her confession remained, the revelation of what she was forced to do. He had assured her many times after reading through her harrowing accounts that he did not blame her, nor did he feel that she had any reason to blame herself. He had never lied to her in the past, not about something so important. Yet she could once again feel her marriage falling apart around her and she could not fathom any other reason for his distance.

'But he wouldn't lie...not to me.'

Jill only wished that she could be so sure of her shaky belief and that the paper between her fingers did not make so much sense.

* * *

There was no sound from upstairs, no movement at all. His relief that she had finally been able to settle down comfortably was short-lived, however, when their earlier conversations floated menacingly back to him.

Never before had he found himself choking on his own words, desperate to find something to say that would comfort her in the way she needed. No words were enough, no action held the right sentiment.

Five weeks had passed since the night he processed the words he had begun to wish that he had never read. Five weeks, yet his brain was still processing the information. Even now he could remember her accounts and the one name that recurred with an annoying frequency.

Wesker.

Chris knew that the man was evil beyond words, but the words his wife had scribbled hastily onto whatever paper she could get her hands on at the time provided a glimpse at an evil far greater than what he had originally assumed. Wesker was not human, nor did he seem capable of understanding human processes and emotions. All he knew was that Jill had foiled his plans, that Chris loved her and that she was therefore the perfect tool for revenge against both of them.

He knew of Wesker's actions and while this knowledge angered him he knew that he did not look at it objectively; he saw a man who had hurt the woman he loved and wanted to make him pay dearly for every tear that she shed. Anger was an emotion he could deal with, but when he had discovered just how Wesker's torture had affected Jill, how helpless and broken it had left her, anger was the last emotion on his mind. He had wanted to help her so badly that he did not stop to think about just how deep into her troubled mind he would have to probe to accomplish this and even if he was able to handle what he found.

Her writings had been poetic in a way he did not expect and every emotion hit him like a thousand daggers to the soul. For a brief moment he understood what she was going through, how she felt...and it had left him crippled. For a brief moment he had been drowning, suffocating, wanting anything but to feel the way he did. Eventually the fog cleared and he could breathe again but he knew that Jill was not so lucky. All of that pain, the anguish, despair, fear, loneliness...she carried it with her every day.

It was not over, he knew that now, and he did not think that it ever would be. His amazement that she had made it so far without giving up, as he would have done, made way for the damning realisation that was driven home with every miniature confession and admission. He knew that it made him seem entirely selfish and unhelpful when he chose to block out her words and leave her to work through her own problems but truth be told, he couldn't deal with it, he couldn't take the pain of knowing the damage that had been inflicted and how torn up it had left her. No word he could utter would be enough...he felt truly useless and it terrified him.

To his relief, he heard car doors slam just outside and made to open the front door before his expected guest had a chance to knock.

"Hey, did it go alright?" Leon asked, looking for his daughter before the door had even slammed behind him.

"Yeah, she was fine," Chris smiled. "Slept most of the time."

Leon laughed quietly as he knelt before Katherine's car seat and studied her sleeping features.

"Yeah, all she has done so far is eat, sleep and fill her diaper," he told him, smiling to himself as he realised Chris had yet to experience the wonders of a child's first few weeks. The details of which he decided to keep to himself, so sure that The Redfields' struggle with parenthood would beat his and Claire's in the hilarity stakes.

"Anyway, you must be getting anxious now," he continued as he left Katherine to sleep and attempted to drum up a conversation with his soon-to-be brother-in-law. "Eleven weeks left now, right? Please tell me you've decided on names."

Chris looked away nervously, not wanting to answer what he deemed an awkward question. Naming their unborn child had been the last thing on his mind as of late. More often than was neccessary he remembered their scare and the panic that had gripped him when the prospect of losing his child became too real for his liking. They had not planned their child, nor had they expected the possibility of parenthood to arise for a while, but the effect that Jill's pregnancy had on both of them was unmistakeable. She positively glowed and her constantly swelling abdomen seemed a natural progression for her. On the other hand, Chris did not feel as ridiculous as he thought he would when he stroked said abdomen and talked quietly to the child that grew inside. He had not yet met his child but already felt as though he knew them so well. The thought of losing them hurt as much as the prospect of losing Jill did.

As he considered Jill's struggle this thought became terrifyingly real. He did not know when or how she would break but he believed that it was inevitable. Her refusal to seek help scared him to no end, but he knew that once their child was born he could make it known to the doctors that she was in need of counselling. If, on the other hand, she slipped away before then...the thought was too much for him to bear. He was unsure of what exactly he feared; was it the possibility of suicide or that she would be left unable to function without constant support? Whatever it was, he knew that she would be lost to him and so would their child.

"Chris?"

He snapped his head up, unaware that he had descended into a momentary trance. Leon raised his eyebrows, his grey eyes nervously searching for some sign that his friend was alright.

"Sorry," Chris muttered incoherently. "I'm just a little tired."

The eyebrows raised again.

"Tired? Chris, it's two in the afternoon," Leon pointed out, much to Chris's consternation. Leon never did know when to drop a tender subject. "Speaking of which, where's Jill? I thought she had started maternity leave?"

"Asleep. She's been...well, she's been a bit tired lately."

Silence descended upon them and Chris could hear Leon's heavy breathing and found himself praying that the younger man would take the hint and just leave. He was in no mood to talk to anyone at that moment, especially not Kennedy.

During their time fighting Umbrella the two men had grown to know each other quite well, exhanging information and organising counter-offensives in a professional relationship that continued well into Chris's employment with the BSAA. He owed Leon a lot and knew that the feeling was mutual; it was Leon who had forwarded information about Jill's possible survival to him as a 'personal favour'. Leon had never mentioned his source but Chris had his suspicions.

When it came down to business and survival Chris would trust Leon with his life, and vice versa, but once they found themselves removed from the battlefield they found it awkward to talk about personal issues. While he was not as close a friend as Barry, Leon remained a good friend to them all and it was a friendship that Chris valued. It therefore annoyed him immensely when neither of them felt able to confide in the other, as good friends often do.

"You know, I never really asked how things were between you two," Leon spoke softly. "If it's not my place to ask then just say but you look a little out of it. Last time I saw you guys you seemed to be almost back to normal."

Chris reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation. The words were on the tip of his tongue and he was not ready to share them with anyone...he doubted that he ever would be. Leon and Claire were playing happy families; they had a child and were planning a wedding. It was the life he and Jill were supposed to be leading, the life they were _trying_ to lead. Aside from a sense of reluctance, he felt jealous that his younger sister and his equally younger friend had found happiness when his own chance of happiness was slowly being pulled from beneath him.

"Chris...damn it, I'm no good at this talking thing either so throw me some slack," Leon pleaded. Once glance at his face told Chris that he did not want to be in this position either but forced himself to continue because he knew it was the right thing to do.

This realisation made him feel more comfortable, enough so that he sank down into a cushioned armchair as he tried to phrase his current situation in a way that would not prove too embarassing for either of them.

"I'm guessing this isn't to do with her pregnancy?" Leon continued, desperate to fill the silence and not giving a damn what he said.

"No, it's not," Chris sighed. Leon's shoulders sagged in relief as he too took a seat. "Well, not completely. Jill, she...she told me everything."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Chris looked glumly at him; it was a thought that occured to him every time his thoughts turned sour. It never lingered for long as the pain he had momentarily shared with her came rushing back. Perhaps ignorace truly was bliss in this case.

"I always thought that I could help her, that somehow...somehow she would pull through and we'd be alright," he admitted with less reluctance than he had anticipated. "What that bastard did to her...nothing can ever change that. It affected her in a way that... I honestly don't think she's gonna make it, Leon. It's too much for one person to handle and I can't- I just...can't. I'm not strong enough. I thought she was, but now I'm not so sure."

He paused for breath for a brief moment, glancing up at Leon while he debated whether or not to continue.

"I'm losing her," he whispered mournfully. "I'm losing her again."

Leon did not reply immediately, choosing instead to process his friend's words and the meaning that they carried. The only sounds that permeated the artificial silence were the soft movements of the sleeping baby as she twitched occasionally in her sleep. The sounds were enough to draw his attention to her and words began to form in the back of his mind.

"Jill is a lot stronger than she looks," he tried. "If there is anyone who can pull through this it's her. But you can't expect her to do it alone. She loves you too much to just give up. You need to talk this through with her. It's obvious that you're not working at this together, you need-"

"It's not that easy," Chris interrupted. He laughed humorlessly as he realised he was repeating Jill's words the night she revealed all that she had been forced to do. He had not understood the meaning of them back then but now he was sure...it really wasn't as easy as stating your worries and expecting them to disappear. Words barely brushed the surface of the pain.

"Nothing worth having comes easily, Chris," Leon spoke, raising his voice as it took on a more serious tone. "I remember how you were after she disappeared. None of us want to have to go back there and damn it you know that you can't afford to."

Chris's irritation at Leon's sudden anger faded into bitter memories of those long, empty two years. He may as well have lived a decade without her, because it had felt so long. It was strange how a single moment could turn a man's life upside down and it made it that much worse to know that it was his life that was supposed to end that night.

He voiced these thoughts and Leon could do nothing but roll his eyes and sigh at the simple suggestion of such an occurance.

"Look, things happen for a reason," he explained, not quite buying into the karma and kismet explanation but noticing a line of coincidences too strange to ignore. "If Jill had not disappeared, Claire and I would never have got together, Katherine would not be here, the BSAA would never have developed a cure for the viruses and Wesker would have succeeded in destroying the world. At the hospital last month you even mentioned that the past few months have brought you and Jill closer than you have ever been. Besides, even if Wesker had killed you he would have turned on her and you would both be dead."

His words began to make sense and Chris tried to cling to this sliver of hope but in the end could do nothing but watch it wriggle free of his grip and disappear into the distance.

"You're going to be a father," Leon pressed before Chris could respond to his explanation. "Sometimes fate works in our favour, however twisted its ways may be. Jill is going to need you more than ever over the next few months. Pregnancy is not a walk in the park and childbirth is the most difficult thing she will ever go through. After that she will have a baby crawling all over her body and sucking her nipples raw for what amounts to a few hours a day while she is robbed of sleep and time to spend on herself."

"Thanks for the visual," Chris groaned, closing his eyes tightly as unwelcome images danced before his eyes. The complexities of childbirth did not elude him but he was not prepared to have them explained to him in such a straight-forward manner. It was not the physical aspects of childbirth that he worried about, it was the emotional impact that such a change would have on his already-fragile wife.

"Believe me, it's as harrowing as it sounds," Leon chuckled, lightening the mood a little. "But the moment your child is born, the world as you know it will change forever. It's up to you whether it changes for better or worse."

Chris attempted to force a smile but he did not have it in him to lie at that moment. Jill had never seemed so fragile to him, not in the thirteen years he had known her. She had always been tough as nails, independant, strong and a little intimidating. While he still found her almost one-hundred and fifty pound frame and hormonally-charged mood swings nothing short of intimidating he began to question whether the gradual return of her 'suffer no fool' attitude was merely due to her current condition and that no real progress had been made.

Her pregnancy left him so confused.

As Leon picked up his daughter and gathered her possessions to leave, he observed Chris one last time. He had admired Chris Redfield since the day the two had met and he realised that Claire's admiration and respect for her older brother was not due to merely a family bond. He was strong-willed, passionate and determined to the point of being downright stubborn. His dedication to the fight was nothing short of awe-inspiring and Leon could think of no better soldier. To witness this man, this _legend_ as he had become, breaking apart because of a woman was both disturbing and touching. He only wished that he knew what to say, that he could make this man open his eyes to what was around him. But this was Chris Redfield. There was no reasoning with him.

It pained him to leave his friend in such a state but he knew that there was nothing more he could do or say that would be worth a damn to him.

There was only one voice of reason that made any sense to Chris and he knew it. A solution was clear but he wasn't quite sure that he had the balls to go through with it. There were too many risks and he would be wading too far into uncharted waters to find his way back if something went wrong. He knew that if that moment came he would have a hell of a lot of people to answer to.

Regardless of the risks, something in the back of his mind told him that he didn't have a choice in the matter.

As he quietly strapped his daughter into the back seat of his car, Leon Kennedy wondered exactly how he got himself into these situations.

**AN - Please review :)**


	13. You

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **I seem to start my chapters with apologies now, and this one won't be much different. Yes, I'm sorry about the long wait, life has just got in the way of everything lately, lol. Fortunately it's another long chapter and hopefully it won't suck :). No matter how much I thought about this chapter, writing my ideas down just seemed to get harder and harder, so I hope it isn't too anticlimactic. I cut quite a bit from this chapter, but most of it will be in the next chapter, where I actually think it fits better. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. Chapter title is from a song by Breaking Benjamin.

Thank you all for your patience with waiting for new chapters and with the time taken to read and review. I don't think there's anything more I can say to thank you all (but I'll keep thinking!)...so thank you all so much! Especially to the lovely reviewers: **Lemon Turkey, Devil Rebel, Stardust4, Ultimolu, Kenshin13, Aleu The Lunar Wolf, tek, Tiger Snaps, Ryoko Metallium, C. Redfield 86, Kira131, Keybladem, JILLsandwishes101, Sparkle Valentine, d-chan-67, xmenrocks, Smash King24 **and** Rugbyfan.**

_**Chapter Twelve** - You_

_"Promise me you'll try to leave it all behind, 'cause I've elected hell lying to myself."_

The corridors were familiar yet still so strange. Every last detail was impeccable; the flaking paint, the mop and bucket that always rested in that one corner, seemingly without a purpose. All that seemed unreal to her were the lack of windows and the solitary door that resided in one wall. It was too empty, too quiet. She knew the setting well now, but failed to sense the welcoming feeling she had always felt when walking down those long, dank corridors.

The dismal silence amplified the beating of her heart and the infrequent movements within her womb were all that suggested that her surroundings were real. She took a moment to observe her outfit and rejected the confusion its reveal brought with it. Dark blue maternity jeans and a lighter Egyptian blue blouse; the colours almost mirrored the S.T.A.R.S. uniform she had worn that fateful night...almost.

She shook her head, not quite sure what to make of it as she moved towards the door, drawn by a silent call to the mystery that lay beyond.

It was a door that she recognised well upon closer inspection.

"This is impossible," she breathed quietly. Voices were audible from beyond the thick oak and she pressed trembling fingers to the stained wood, feeling the unspoken connection even at this distance.

It was laughter. Pure, unbridled happiness radiating from a room she had almost lived in for two years what seemed like a lifetime ago.

She wasted no more time and pushed against the heavy object, finding that it moved with little to no effort. As the smallest of cracks appeared where it met the crudely-painted frame the laughter spilled out into the hallway and the voices that threw idle conversation back and forth became instantly recognisable.

'Forest, Richard...Joseph?'

With one final shove she pushed the door wide open and stepped around it, into the scene she had already begun to paint in her mind.

"Holy mother of God!" a jubilant, boyish voice exclaimed. "Okay, which one of you is responsible for this?"

Her eyes fell immediately on Joseph Frost, healthier than he had ever appeared. He was not dressed for combat, as he had been the last time they had spoken, but instead wore his chosen uniform for the day in a casual style that spoke volumes about his personality. The bandana he always tied around his head prior to a mission was absent, revealing unkempt light brown hair. He had twisted his body sideways in the chair that he straddled backwards and held his right arm straight, one finger pointed at Jill's obvious change in physique while he looked at each of the other S.T.A.R.S. members with a mock-serious expression on his face.

"Joseph?" Jill breathed, unable to form a coherent speech pattern. "Kenneth? Enrico? Brad? It's...all of you. I- I don't understand."

"Speak for yourself, doll," Forest spoke in his heavy southern drawl as he winked cheekily at her. "Looks like someone's been busy."

Jill's hand moved to her bump, fingers drifting over the soft fabric of her blouse. She did not know how to respond...was this real? She was never pregnant when she was in S.T.A.R.S., but the men before her had all perished years ago in the homely life she had found herself falling pregnant in. She remained deeply confused as she took in the desk to her left; her own. It appeared just how she had left it, as neat and orderly as it had ever been. Chris's possessions remained scattered around the space between their desks, leaving little room for her own belongings. She had never minded this intrusion, though she often complained about it to the mess's owner just to get a rise out of him.

As she turned back to face the friends that gathered around the radio equipment she caught sight of her reflection in the black screen of the TV above the filing cabinet and both hands raised to grip her hair. Her long blonde locks were gone, replaced by her natural chestnut colouring and cut into a long bob. She could not quite believe the transformation, but the situation she found herself in suddenly made a hell of a lot of sense.

"It's Redfield's," Kevin Dooley suggested, drawing her attention back to the crowd who continued to discuss the paternity of her child. "It has to be."

"Oh come on!" Brad chimed in. "They danced around their feelings for years, and suddenly he's impregnated her?"

"Hey!" Jill protested, not taking kindly to the words her dear deceased friend chose. "Quit making me sound like a farmyard animal!"

The boys fell silent for a brief moment as they exchanged glances, a murmur erupting from within the group and spreading out to its limits a moment later. Though apologies were muttered, she knew that the murmur was one of sheepish guilt and not genuinely apologetic feelings.

"There's the denial."

"Definitely Redfield."

"Man, that's gonna be one messed-up kid."

All eyes were drawn to Enrico, more out of astonishment that it had been the second-in-command who had come out with such a comment than the comment itself.

"Oh come on," he defended. "We were all thinking it."

Laughter descended upon them and Jill found herself joining in, knowing that they were not serious. It was simply the way they were; they would rather tease her and Chris endlessly than admit that they admired them.

"And look at the size of that rock," Richard pointed out, reaching out for her hand as he vacated his seat. "You guys must be pretty well off. That's great, really great. We always knew big things were gonna happen for you guys."

"No we didn't."

Joseph cried out in protest as Forest thwacked him over the back of the head with a rolled-up police file. The simplicity of the scene brought tears to Jill's eyes and she did not attempt to hide them as she would have done back in the day.

"Look what you've went and done!" Forest exclaimed wildly. "You get your kicks making pregnant women cry?"

Joseph simply huffed in silence, ignoring his friend's accusation as though he had not heard a word of it.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Jill asked through her tears, not quite sure that she wanted to know the answer. There was so much that had gone unsaid between her teammates and herself and she so desperately wanted to grasp the opportunity to say what should have been said years ago. She should have told them from the start how much she appreciated their friendship, how they made her feel as though she truly belonged for the first time in her life. More than that, she wanted them to know how _proud_ she was of them.

"'Fraid so," Edward sighed, the news seeming as disappointing to him as it was to her. "We're dead...you know that."

Jill waited for a long moment before she allowed herself to absorb his words. Even Forest's offhand "I always kinda hoped I'd be naked in her dreams" rolled off her as though the joke had not been made at all.

Her surroundings were too real to be a dream but she knew that what remained of the S.T.A.R.S. office had been orderly disposed of many years ago. There was nothing left of the R.P.D., or of Raccoon City; just a fenced-off landscape and a plaque dedicated to all who had lost their lives during the outbreak. Nobody dared rebuild the city. There were still too many painful memories of the events that had transpired, too many wrongs that could not be put right.

"Why?" she asked quietly. "Why am I dreaming about all this? Why now? Is this some screwed-up pregnancy dream? Or are you supposed to be ghosts come to deliver a message?"

The latter suggestion highly amused her former teammates, laughter spilling into the silence as she searched for an answer within her own mind.

"You've been watching too many movies," Richard laughed, leaning casually against her old desk. "A dream is a dream...it's all in your head."

Jill shook her head in confusion, pinching the bridge of her nose as she willed the dream to end. She knew that it was futile; she had experienced many lucid dreams before where she had found herself unable to awaken no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that it was only a dream. As the seconds ticked by slowly the line between dream and reality began to dull and, as expected, she began to doubt the words of her friends and considered the possibility that this scenario was in fact quite real. She chose not to think about her very obvious pregnancy or the lack of the partner that had haunted a few too many lucid dreams that she confessed were much more pleasant.

"If I'm dreaming then why are you all sitting around, doing nothing?" she questioned. "Shouldn't you guys be dressed as clowns or organised into a couple of barber shop quartets?"

"Is that seriously what you think of us?" Kenneth asked with a deep chuckle, his laugh as warm as it had been before his throat had been ripped wide open. Jill could still remember finding his weak body, his thick blood coating her hands as she pressed against the horrific wound and he trembled, the light fading from his eyes as she watched. If only they had been faster, if only they could have got to that damn monster before it had overpowered him...her life was too full of 'if only's.

She looked to each of her friends, their deaths flashing before her eyes. Joseph, lost in a whirlwind of flesh, gore and matted fur. Richard, his blood staining the water crimson, a solitary finger floating lifelessly to the surface. Forest's corpse lumbering towards her, brain matter spraying their surroundings as Chris's well-aimed shot put him out of his misery. Brad...there was nothing she could have done, her bullets merely sank into the flesh of the hulking beast as it violently ended her terrified friend's life. Even Enrico...wounded but alive, murdered simply because he had figured out what Wesker flaunted so freely before herself and Chris.

She could still smell the stench of the undead, still feel the dampness of the air she had breathed for several hours longer than she would have liked.

Jill turned away from the group, not wanting to show the hurt in her eyes.

The expected rumble of conversation behind her never came and she could feel their eyes on her back, wishing that they would find something else to devote their attention to.

A low hiss from the darkness in the back of the office caught her attention and she looked up, struggling to see a trembling figure in the distance. It's arms and legs were almost wasted away, like a skeleton wearing skin peeled fresh from the frame of a dying man. The hair that hung low over its face was sparse and a silver so light it stood prominently against the shadows that claimed its surroundings. Every shallow breath that it stole caused its body to double over, the hand that held it upright against the bookshelf barely providing enough support. It was a pathetic creature, barely worth the air that it struggled to breathe. Despite its frailty, Jill found herself unable to feel sorry for the apparition. Somehow, deep down inside she knew that she did not need to and perhaps shouldn't.

"Some say that dreams are wish-fulfilling," Brad's voice claimed, breaking through her thoughts and forcing her to turn around once again. "In your dreams you play out scenarios that you dare not consider when you are awake. On the other hand, some suggest that dreams are a person's way of linking with their unconcious mind, showing them what they need to see, what they know deep down but are unaware of in conciousness."

Jill froze, dumbstruck, and her reaction was mirrored by the others.

"Okay, now I know I'm dreaming," she laughed lightly. "But I know all that."

"Of course you do," Brad continued. "We know what you know. You made us, after all."

A dull echo of familiar pain throbbed in her head as she tried to wrap her head around the idea. She concluded that it was like trying to understand existentialism; it was virtually impossible without a stiff drink and several very strong painkillers.

Her thoughts drifted back to the elderly man who struggled to breath behind her and she considered for a moment perhaps addressing him, or at least asking the others of his purpose in this strange vision.

"So you married Chris?" Forest asked, seeming to sense her consideration. "How's that working out?"

She did not fail to notice the lack of his usual smile and upon reflection she realised that she had perhaps never seen the man so serious.

"It's...good," she answered, faking a smile of her own as she ran a hand across her bump; an action that was almost natural to her now. "I never...I never thought it would be this good, to be honest. He is ten times the man I thought he was and I had high expectations."

The corners of her lips twitched ominously, destroying what she had thought to be a perfectly passable smile. Thoughts of their time together floated back to her and she realised how true her words were; the theories and fantasies had nothing on the real thing.

"Then why are you lying to yourself?" Joseph asked, his expression as serious as Forest's.

"Dude!" Forest exclaimed as his eyes opened wide in disbelief. "What happened to easing into it?"

"We're speaking to the girl who was in love with Chris for months before she realised it herself," he was quick to defend. "We could be 'easing into it' for hours and you know what her sleep patterns have been like lately."

The surreal nature of the dream was made harshly evident to her when she realised that Joseph's words echoed her own reaction to realising that she had fallen for her idiot of a partner.

"Well, since Mr. Frost pretty much demolished all boundaries... You're not happy, Jill, and I wager you didn't need us to tell you that," Forest continued.

Jill sighed sheepishly and shook her head slowly. The thought had occured to her many times over the past week but she had simply pushed it to the back of her mind, too afraid to deal with it. When she heard the words spoken aloud it forced her to face the harsh reality.

"You're not happy because he's not," Richard elaborated. "It's sweet, but it's not good."

She nodded again, finding it much harder to face her own thoughts than she ever could have imagined.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention as an icy breath passed down her spine, sending a small spasm of discomfort around her body. She could sense the old man behind her and though she knew that he remained at the back of the office she felt too afraid to keep her back to him. His eyes were on her, she could feel them, and his gaze made her feel more than uncomfortable; she felt disgust, shame...fear. Slowly, she turned her head, swallowing the hard lump that had been rising in her throat.

"Over here!" Joseph called, snapping her back to the conversation. "Ignore him, he's not worth it."

"Will you quit it?" Brad hissed quietly, leaning forward to put across the urgency in his tone. "He might hear you."

Joseph turned to look at Brad incredulously and scoffed audibly. He did not seem to fear the man as Brad obviously did. The ex-pilot shrank back into his seat, turning away from the conversation, obviously not wanting to hear any of it.

"You did well to show him your journals," Richard spoke, ignoring the cowardly man. "It's important to have an open and honest relationship and for the most part that is what you have with Chris. You just both need to stop clamming up about your feelings."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of what you had no control over," Forest added as he rolled his eyes at Brad. "Everyone knows you as the girl who can adapt to anything, who can think about every situation logically. It's how you always saw yourself. I know that how Wesker used you was appalling but you can't let that bastard control you anymore."

Jill could feel the prickling of impending tears in the corner of her eyes and knew that she would be unable to stop the flow.

"They're right," Kenneth agreed enthusiastically. "If you keep going on like this, you're going to end up losing everything you've worked so hard for."

"So buck up," Joseph ordered light-heartedly. "Show that bastard that you're better than him. Any other person would have self-destructed after what he put you through. You're strong, Jill, you just need to accept that and take charge."

His words made sense but she found herself too afraid to acknowledge that he was right. Deep down she knew that she had not been handling her problems the way she should have been. There was only so much that she could do on her own and Chris was in no fit state to help her. She could sense that she was at a precipice and the next decision that she made would determine whether her newfound life would flourish or fall apart. It felt as though every event in her life had been leading up to the present moment, to a convergence point where she was forced to make a decision that she felt severly unprepared for.

If only she knew what that decision was...

"You want to get better," Richard hummed, seeming to sense her thoughts. "We wouldn't be here if you didn't. You know what to do but you're too afraid to do it, you're afraid that it will be too difficult."

"It's selfish, if you ask me," Joseph offered. She could not help but smile at his honesty; Joseph had always been kind to her, joking his way through most situations, but she knew that she could trust him to be brutally honest if the occasion called for it and by God, did this call for it.

"Joseph!"

"No, I'm serious," he insisted, despite Enrico's protest. "You've been feeling sorry for yourself for far too long. All it takes is one look at Chris to see that you haven't been considering how this has been affecting him. How do you think he feels finding out that the only woman he has ever truly loved was tortured and manipulated and is slowly tearing herself apart because of it? On top of that, she is refusing to to get help and he doesn't know how to help her."

She opened her mouth to protest, to insist that she _had_ been thinking about Chris and had recently been plotting ways to convince him to divulge the closely-guarded emotions he had been forced to deal with during their two years apart. Before she had a chance to speak, Richard held up a hand to silence her.

"He's right," he sighed. "You know that the way he is acting now is related to what he read in your journals. Deep down you know but you won't accept it, you won't ask him about it and try to help him as he has helped you. You're too afraid, but you don't need to be, Jill, he loves you, he will do anything for you."

Brad laughed fearfully from behind Forest, but none of the others turned to look at him.

"There's nothing you could do," he told Jill, looking her dead in the eye. "He's too stubborn, he wouldn't listen. It will all work out in the end."

"Bull _shit_!" Joseph called, causing Brad to jump nervously and turn away once again. "Don't listen to him, he doesn't have the _guts_ to do what needs to be done."

Her eyes lingered on Brad as she took in his words, much more willing to accept them than to accept what Joseph was discreetly suggesting. Truth was that she was terrified of confronting Chris, scared of their heart-to-heart turning into a screaming match. On the other hand she knew that Richard was right, that she was too afraid to swallow her pride and admit that she needed help, too afraid to face what Chris possibly thought of her. Her gut feeling told that he had simply heard more than he had wanted to hear but part of her still believed that he felt shame and disgust over her reaction to what Wesker had subjected her to. After all, he too had known her as tough, dependable Jill Valentine.

Her heart bled for her husband and at that moment she felt more ashamed that her coping strategy had adversly affected him than she did that she had been used by her long-time enemy.

"You know what you have to do, and now you know how you feel," Forest told her. "It's up to you what to do but just remember that you aren't the only person your decision will affect. Chris cares for you too much to walk away, even if you make the wrong decision."

A complicated thought process was set in motion and she searched deep within herself for the strength needed to make such a decision. There was the easy way and the hard way but she knew that it was not as simple as that. Was she strong enough to make the effort? Did she believe in herself enough to try?

A short, sharp thud echoed behind her as she strove to find the answer and she turned yet again to the old man.

The bookcase no longer supported his afflicted frame, his arms resting weekly on the surface of their captain's old desk as his head hung low, shoulders shaking violently with every deep, heaving intake of breath. She waited for a moment for her friends to stop her, so sure that they sensed her intentions. When none of them so much as spoke, let alone attempted to prevent her from moving, she began to walk towards the desk with slow, cautious steps.

As she progressed the shadows receded, revealing the whiteboard, emblazoned with the S.T.A.R.S. emblem, upon which a sequence of numbers appeared to have been frantically scrawled in a repeating patter. The handwriting she did not recognise, but the number seemed unknowingly familiar. She found herself muttering the number under her breath, deriving a sense of familiarity from the act, until a desperate wheeze drew her attention back to the elderly man.

She drew closer still, close enough to notice the liver spots that flecked the pallid skin of his face. There appeared to be no flesh between skin and bone as the curve of his jaw was startlingly evident as she stepped up to the edge of the desk. The hair that barely covered his wrinkled skull seemed so frail that it would turn to dust if she breathed too fast and too suddenly.

A hand shot out with surprising speed, skeletal fingers limply gripping her arm with a strength that amazed her. No matter how hard she tried to shake him off, he did not budge, remaining resolute in his endeavour.

It was a grip that became disturbingly familiar and suddenly the lines that marred his face became recognisable, the eyes that glared up at her with intense hatred sending fear into the core of her heart.

...but the fear never took hold.

"_You!_" she gasped. His body fell forward onto the desk as she succeeded in freeing herself of his relentless grip and she took half a step back.

His bony fingers grasped at thin air, replicating the starvation-fuelled movements of the creatures she had first met in the corridors of the Spencer Mansion. He tried so desperately to reach her, cracked lips curling back to reveal yellow teeth that had begun to decay, but she remained cautiously distant. After a few long moments the movements ceased and his hand flopped uselessly to the desk, fingers twitching weakly. A deep, breathy groan escaped his throat and she knew that it was one of futile desperation; had he possessed the energy, she held no doubts that he would have leapt across the desk to choke the very life out of her.

Yet she knew that it was not her life that he had been desperate to steal away from her; it was everything else. His grip had been vengefully possessive, as though he were attempting to reclaim what he believed to be rightfully his.

Whatever his intentions, she knew that they meant her harm in the worst possible way, but the vessel that they festered within was not capable of claiming her...but if she moved closer, if she sat beside him...

Already, she could feel the oxygen slowly being drawn from the air around her. She was drowning on dry land yet she did not feel capable of stepping back to safety, into the open embrace of her friends and their reassuring words. No, she was truly alone.

"You're pathetic," she whispered, raking her eyes over the many afflictions that ailed him and not feeling an ounce of sympathy for the pitiful creature. "You're weak."

She had not expected such a sense of pure release to flood around her and suddenly the air became lighter and the man's head fell to the desktop as he cried out in agonising protest. Instinctively, she stumbled backwards, terrified of how he would react to such choice words.

Nothing.

"You're nothing," she tried, though she herself was not convinced. He may have been old, weak and seemingly dependent on his surroundings she could still sense a great danger about him.

"Try to believe that," Joseph suggested as she stumbled back into the gathering, leaving the man to his own devices.

Somewhere in the distance she was aware of a loud, repetitive thud and every hair on her skin stood to attention, a feeling of completely helpless fear seizing her.

"Knock, knock, Jill," Forest spoke.

_Bang!_

* * *

Jill flew into an upright position, her body aching from the lack of support that the sofa cushions provided her large frame with. It took a few confusing moments for her senses to return and when they did she immediately regretted jumping upright so suddenly. Nausea, vertigo, discomfort, pain, and the shuffle of her unborn child as it reacted to her pounding heart.

'What the hell was that all about?' she wondered to herself, repeating details of a delirious dream over and over lest they fade as she tuned in to the world around her.

_Bang!_

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, waiting for the usual unsteady feeling to pass before she even tried to push herself to her feet.

_Bang! Bang!_

"Alright! I'm coming!" she shouted in a voice so hoarse she raised her eyebrows at its quality. Judging by the time that the wooden-framed wall clock proudly displayed, she had been asleep for little under an hour; not too long, all things considered.

As usual, her feet dragged across the carpet. It was one of the many ways that she had learned to conserve energy, which had proven difficult to come by in recent weeks. The maternity pillow provided a welcome amount of release but her sleep had been restless and just the night before she had forced Chris into the one of the guest bedrooms with her astounding display of nocturnal acrobatics. Upon receiving a forcefully-thrusted knee in a rather uncomfortable area and consequently rolling out of the bed they shared, Chris had remarked that he was amazed a woman so big could become so violently flexible.

It was the first time she had seen him genuinely laugh in a while, but she could tell that there was a certain amount of effort behind his response. Nevertheless, she had felt guilty for many hours following her unintentional assault upon her beloved husband.

The banging continued as she unlocked the door and even when she pulled it towards her, Leon's hand pounded the air for a short second before he realised that there was no need to continue.

"Eventually," he smiled. "I've been hammering on your door for the past five minutes. Saw you asleep on the couch...I tried calling but you obviously left the phone in another room."

He looked rather haggard, and pushed past her gently before she had the opportunity to invite him inside.

"You peer through people's windows all the time?" she mocked light-heartedly. "That's gonna get you a bad reputation, you know."

"I think that's the least of my worries," he laughed nervously, raising a hand to his previously-neat hair. "I tried shouting through your letterbox and...well I'm fairly sure that the neighbours across from you now think I'm slightly psychotic."

Jill did little to control her laughter and Leon raised an eyebrow in mock offense at her finding his embarassing situation highly amusing.

"Did you want something?" she asked, cocking her head to the side as she smiled softly. "Because Chris is at work until two."

"Actually, I came to see you."

Her smile turned to one of amusement and she let out another small laugh, turning from Leon as she moved to straighten the cushions she had carelessly knocked off the sofa in her sleep.

"Wow," she commented, recalling Travis's visit two days earlier. "I don't think I've ever been this popular. Can't say I'm very entertaining at the moment, but I'll try my best."

Leon cleared his throat nervously and her attention was drawn to the spot where he stood, hair in his eyes in what she assumed to be a failed attempt to hide his face. It was then that she realised that his visit was not entirely pleasure-related. Leon Kennedy was a man of business and he remained so, even when he possessed the skittish demeanor of a socially inept teenager.

"What is it?" she sighed. "Because if you're here to offer advice on my failing marriage, I've had enough in the past few days to last me a lifetime."

His stance shifted and he brushed his hair back with one swift sweep of his hand.

"You think your marriage is failing?"

Uncertaintly creeped through her as she cursed herself for not catching her words in time. She had adopted the strange habit of over-elaborating on certain facts. On some level she wondered if it was a silent call for help. If it was, Chris showed no sign of hearing it.

"I don't know what I think anymore," she admitted with a surprising lack of reluctance, resting her back against the wall as she studied her nails as a means of avoiding looking Leon in the eye. "I do know there's a problem I just don't know how to fix it or even if it can be fixed at all."

"Chris, right?"

Jill raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes; her way of saying "what do you think?" without having to voice her concern. Her husband had crossed her mind many times in the last few days but each time he did she wasn't sure if she was thinking of the same person she had married. She knew that he tried to act what he defined as 'normally' around her but every time he succeeded he would slip back into his coma-like state in the time it took to bat an eyelid.

"He really cares about you," Leon reminded her. "I- You know, I love Claire. When I think of how I would react if it was her who went through all that you did, I know that I would be angry but most of all, I would be hurt. Just the thought of something happening to her scares the hell out of me and I can't ever see myself bouncing back from that. Chris was faced with that reality. He lost you and he got you back but now he has to deal with the repercussions of what happened while you were gone. He loves you, it's just difficult for him."

"You think I don't know that?" she asked, choking back a pitiful sob. "Every time I try to bring what happened up he either ignores it or changes the subject. Hell, he won't even talk to me about what happened in the two years I was gone."

Leon looked away hesitantly. He knew that it was not his place to interfere and that he was possibly betraying the confidence of a good friend and soon-to-be relative, but part of him could not walk away when he knew of a possible solution. It just wasn't in his nature.

"Honestly, I can't blame him," he revealed, catching Jill's eyes in a strong, meaningful gaze. "He isn't proud of what he became after you disappeared. Not many of us are proud of him either, but he put all that behind him and he was getting better when we found out there was a chance that you were still alive. Despite that, he went after that hope like a man possessed. Aside from the shame, he doesn't want to revisit that pain and though I disagree with him keeping it all bottled up I know that if I were in his situation I would feel the exact same way."

Jill chewed desperately on her bottom lip, not quite drawing blood as she fought back her emotions. If there was one person in the world she did not feel comfortable crying before, it was Leon Kennedy. He did not suffer fools, nor did he feed pathetic pity parties and above all his respect was something she valued almost as much as her husband's. There was also something about the way he observed a person with intense concentration at moments like these that caused her to feel as though every tear betrayed a thousand hidden feelings.

"Jill, he...he thinks he's losing you," Leon rushed, making it obvious to his wary companion that it was something he was supposed to have kept to himself. "We talked the other night and he's scared. Normally I can be trusted to keep confessions in strict confidence but I know that if I don't say anything this time you're going to end up as a single mother and judging by the state you are both in I'd say you're both fair game for a long-term visit to the psych ward. No child should be born into that, Jill."

She knew that he was right, that matters concerning their relationship were no longer private issues; every decision they made affected their unborn child. She knew this and she was willing to bet that Chris did too.

Leon's confession saddened her and also disturbed her. She had known that Chris was unhappy, but for him to think that he was losing her... He had always had complete faith in her and was forever assuring her of her strength. Now it transpired that he no longer believed his own words, he no longer had faith in her. The extent of the emotional trauma he must have been dealt to react in such a way was not lost to her and she suddenly felt far worse than she had when facing her own trauma. She had been afraid, vulnerable and unwilling to accept that she stood a chance of recovering, lost in her own selfish pity and shame that she failed to realise what she had been inflicting on her caring husband.

"I was going to ask if he was right," Leon spoke in a low, hushed tone. "But I can tell from that look in your eyes that nothing is further from the truth. Regardless, if things keep going the way they are then you are both going to lose one another, and this time bouncing back is going to be a hell of a lot harder."

"I know," Jill whispered remorsefully.

Her thoughts drifted back to her dream and she drew strength from the symbolism that she understood. If there was one thing that her dream had left her with, it was hope. For her mind to manifest such a scenario was proof that somewhere, deep down she had the strength to pull through. It was not the realisation of this strength that failed her, it was the ability to draw from her spirit's well and fight back that eluded her.

"You don't have to do this alone," he reminded her.

She closed her eyes and absorbed his words, reapeating them to herself until she almost believed in them.

It pained her to watch Chris suffer as he did and she could see clearly now that he had sacrificed so much for her over the past few months. It was about time that she sacrificed something for him, for their marriage and for their child.

"I know," she responded firmly, clutching her newfound strength in an attempt to hold on long enough to do the right thing. "I'm sorry, Leon, I don't want to kick you out but there's something I have to do...alone."

Leon smiled, not quite knowing what she intended to do but understood from the familiar glint in her eyes that it was a step towards a brighter future for herself and for her family. She returned his smile dubiously as he made for the front door, hands disappearing into the pockets of his leather jacket in pursuit of car keys.

"Call me, okay?" he requested, though he did not wait for an answer.

His work was done. Now, it was in her hands.

* * *

Chris watched the second hand slowly approach the end of the working day. At least for him. It was all part of the arrangement he had made with the BSAA following Jill's 'situation' a month previously. No work on Wednesdays and Thursdays ended three hours early. As the hour hand hovered ominously above the black acrylic '2' he realised that he had no excuse to remain in his office. He cursed himself for jumping so hastily into the arrangement. Jill was perfectly fine, save for a handful of moodswings and a bladder that seemed all but useless, and he had more than enough time on weekends to finish the nursery and babyproof the house. On some level he regretted the gross exaggerations he made when explaining her condition to their superiors.

Sometimes he wondered what exactly the point was in spending more time in a home that almost drove him to drink.

As two o'clock came and passed he sighed with the realisation that for all the hours he had spent in that damn chair, he had accomplished absolutely nothing that day. The only paper he could remember holding in his hands was some report of a completed P/T/G vaccine. It was nothing of significance to his work; a simple note that had been passed out to all employees. Nothing important, yet the memories it conjured were far from unimportant. It was as though the letter signalled the end of an era, not only for Chris, but for everyone who had fought Umbrella's creations, for every soldier who was forced to walk away from an infected settlement in some poverty-stricken third-world country with the knowledge that the crying masses would die simply because there was nothing they could do. Never again would they have to dispose of infected corpses as they would cattle; in mass graves that would be set alight in controlled furnaces. Chris had seen a lot of suffering in his time and every life that he could not save was one that would haunt him until the day he died and perhaps beyond, and such a vaccine - if it proved viable, which the report suggested it had - meant that history would not repeat itself. Humanity, he hoped, would learn from its past mistakes and the world that would be built on the ashes of that which Umbrella had left behind would be a good one, one that he would be proud to raise his child in.

Somehow, he knew he shouldn't hold his breath.

A small vibration passed through his right leg and he swore in surprise, cursing himself for not leaving his cell phone in a less annoying place to access. His pockets were deep and it took several long seconds and one hell of a struggle to pull it free. 'Jill cell' was displayed proudly on the screen, a candid shot she had scolded him for taking formed the background that he found difficult to look at.

"Hey," he answered, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"I didn't think you'd answer," Jill laughed nervously, obviously unprepared for speaking to him.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, not truly expecting an answer. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's good," she answered. He noted that she sounded a little frazzled, but also...alive. He had not heard such positive emotion poured into so few words in such a long time. It was enough to perk up his spirits and encourage him to believe her words.

"Listen, I'm at the mall right now," she pushed. "I was...I've just had dinner with a...a friend and I was thinking about heading off to pick up some things for the baby and I thought...I thought maybe you'd want to come with me?"

The almost childlike hopefullness in her voice was enough to bring a genuine smile to Chris's lips, one that he could not hide no matter how damn hard he tried.

"I'd like that," he laughed. "I'm just leaving the office now so I'll be about twenty minutes, okay?"

"That's great," Jill breathed and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm just sitting on a bench by the main entrance. You can't really miss me at the moment, right? And Chris...thank you."

The phone remained pressed to his ear long after the conversation ended. He did not know why she had thanked him, nor did he care to theorise. The only thought that lingered in his mind as he made his way down to the parking lot was the hope that she had enough sense to remain on the shaded side of the mall's main entrance. It may not have been startlingly warm, but it was sunny and the breeze was deceiving.

'You really need to stop worrying, Redfield. Even on an off day she's got more sense than you.'

Nevertheless, he was relieved to find that she had indeed took shelter in the shade as he pulled up to the mall's main entrance, unconciously zipping in to claim the closest possible parking space to the doors. Jill had complained about the extra weight she had been carrying around on several occasions and he thought it best to do whatever he could to minimise the amount of time she had to spend on her feet.

The early afternoon heat had begun to fade, leaving the present breeze to delightfully cool his skin. It was a sharp contrast to the stuffy heat within the SUV and he was thankful that they had opted out of the leather interiors. Leather and heat made for an uncomfortable combination.

"That was quick," Jill noted as he neared the bench upon which she rested. He observed her outfit, frowning a little when he caught sight of the jeans she had squeezed herself into. She had mentioned many times before that the support maternity jeans offered a little support to her growing bump, but at the cost of comfort; the extra fabric acted as an extra layer of insulation. While not an overly warm day, it was humid enough to be uncomfortable even to Chris.

"Are you not too warm in jeans?" he asked, to which she rolled her eyes.

"Good afternoon to you, too," she replied sarcastically, gripping his outstretched hand as an aid to pull her to her feet. "To be perfectly honest, I'm sweating like crazy. But it's alright, there's good air-con inside."

Eager to test her theory, he guided her past the sliding doors and felt his tense muscles relax as the temperature dropped several degrees.

"Told you," she grinned mischeviously with a wink. Chris simply shook his head in disbelief, her cheerful attitude grating on him in a way it shouldn't have. It was not faked, but it was emphasised and part of him wished that she would just drop the act.

"So what do we need?" he asked before his annoyance could get the better of him. There was no use in making a scene in public.

"Everything," Jill hummed. "We don't really have anything; clothes, steriliser, bottles, toys, diapers...all we have is a crib. So our baby is going to sleep well but it's going to be naked and bored."

"Two questions," Chris spoke with a raised eyebrow. "How will we know what clothes to buy when we don't even know the sex of the baby? Also, why do we need bottles? I thought you were going to breastfeed?"

Jill smiled as she slowed her pace and turned to look up at him. They were simple, obvious questions but it had been the most attention he had paid to a word she had said in far too long.

"Well, smartypants, we're just going to do the same as we did with the nursery," she explained. "Neutral colours. All we need are babygrows and bibs for now. And yes, I still plan to breastfeed, but we need bottles for milk when we need to leave them with a sitter or when you're on night feed duty. Oh man, that means we need a breast pump, too. Those things scare the hell out of me."

Chris chuckled beside her and she flinched a little as she felt an arm move around her. His hand rested on her waist for a few short seconds before it move round to a supporting position on her back. Jill smiled to herself, sensing another slip in his behaviour.

Leon's words made more sense to her know than they had back in her living room; he was afraid of getting too close in the belief that she was slipping away. She had hoped that this assumption was true as it provided the basis of the cunning plan she was enacting at that very moment. There were other options, other ways to prove to him that she wasn't going anywhere, but she preferred that he came to that realisation on his own. Hence the mid-afternoon trip to the mall. Nothing sang 'bonding' like arguing over baby clothes and prams.

"So anyway," Chris tried after clearing his throat. "What were you doing at the mall on your own?"

Jill dropped her eyes to the marble-effect tiles, hoping that he would not pick that moment to try to read her.

"I told you on the phone," she excused. "I was having lunch with a friend. You don't know her. Figured it would do me good to get out of the house for a while before I went stir crazy. Figured it would do _us_ good to do something together. We never seem to do that anymore."

The hand disappeared, moving from her back up to his hair as he laughed in disbelief.

"I knew it," he breathed. "I knew there had to be something behind this."

"So what if there is?" Jill interjected, rounding on him in absent fury. "So what if my ulterior motive is to spend some quality time with my husband. Is that so bad?"

She knew from his startled expression that she had him. He seemed ashamed of himself, or ashamed of his reaction, as though he could not believe that he reacted so badly to such an innocent suggestion. She could see the conflict, see that he acknowledged that he had overdone it this time. It validated her theory and eased the doubt within her mind. At least he was willing to spend time with her.

"Exactly," she smiled proudly. "Now come on."

As her fingers wrapped around one of his large hands she felt sorrow settle in and wondered if she was doing enough. The fear that had settled in prior to her unplanned lunch date had not yet alleviated and she knew that it would remain with her for some time. It was an awful feeling and she knew that she did not need to live with it but for the sake of her marriage and of her husband and child, she pushed her weakness aside and told herself to get a grip. It did not help that the fear was fed by Chris's quiet stubbornness. If he did not put in work of his own, it would all be for nothing.

The bright interior of the maternity and child store helped to push these worries away and she could see that it had a similar effect on her husband. Rows and rows of clothing, organised by age and gender, surrounded them and suddenly it was made very clear that fear and negativity was not welcome in this environment.

"Oh my God," Jill gushed, rushing towards the unisex section and pulling a pair of tiny white booties from where the hung. The embarassment she expected to feel did not set in; she had never been the type to gush and quite frankly had not bought in to the whole 'cuteness' thing until she found herself with child and utterly confused.

"They're all so...so...small," she gasped, realising the studpidity of her comment several seconds too late. The laugh that Chris saw fit to respond to such a statement with crept through her, ensuring that she felt as ashamed as possible at her dim realisation.

"Oh, you know what I mean," she defended, hitting him lightly on the chest with a delicate bootie.

"I don't think that laugh warranted assault," he joked.

"Death by bootie, it's not as common as you would think," she chuckled, momentarily giddy from his positive response. As he smiled warmly back at her she found it easier to hide her dark feelings, settling instead for the more pleasant truth that she was happy to be doing something so normal with a man who hardly knew the meaning of the word.

"How about this?" Chris asked, holding up a small, white babygrow.

Jill studied it hard for a few moments, frowning a little when her eyes raised to meet his again.

"It's unisex alright," she agreed. "But it's...boring.

She braced herself for an angry or annoyed response, but found her body relaxing as he looked from the babygrow to her then back to the rows of newborn clothes to his left.

"Would you prefer the Little Bo Peep one?" he asked half-seriously. "Because I swear, my son is not wearing _that_."

All attempts to suppress her laughter failed as she followed his nod to the item of clothing that did not by a long shot belong in the unisex section. Bright red dress, blonde curls, cute smile...Little Bo Peep was an obvious reflection of the kind of girl the wearer of that babygrow would grow into. Not to mention the pink bow that sat perfectly on the head of a sheep that looked way too happy for Jill's liking.

"Okay, maybe not," she laughed, enjoying the sound as their voices mingled. "But what do you mean 'your son'? _My daughter_ would look rather fetching in that lace beanie, don't you think?"

"Oh please, it's a boy," Chris insisted, turning his attention to the male section to prove his point. "My genes are too good to be recessive."

His attention was drawn back to his large wife as she almost double over in a fit of laughter, reaching out for the nearest stand to steady herself.

"Please...don't make me- me laugh," she begged through gleeful tears. "My bladder is weak enough as it is."

"What was so funny?"

"Genes? Recessive?" she giggled as her laughter subsided. "You have been spending way too much time with Rebecca."

Feeling brave, she took a chance and slipped her arms around his waist, pulling herself as close to him as her bump would allow. It had been so long since she had felt his warmth and had to fight to remain in control of her senses. Whatever had happened to their relationship, it was obvious to her that the spark was still there.

Despite the feeling appearing to be mutual, her arms were around him for the briefest of moments before he gently pushed them away and averted his gaze in stubborn ignorance. The warm happiness that she had felt the moment he began to share in her joy began to recede. She could feel his co-operation slip away and could not think of a way to hold on to it.

"Hey, Chris," she spoke, unsure exactly of how to phrase her thoughts. "I- Um, do you want to pick out some clothes while I go pick up some, um...new mom stuff? Since I have such lousy taste in clothing..."

She added a smile to her words, disappointed that she did not feel capable of speaking what had initially been on her mind. To her delight, Chris smiled happily and agreed.

'Perhaps he just needs some time to think about it all?'

As she retreated towards the back of the store, the realisation that her plan was slowly failing began to sink in. He was too far gone to crawl out of his funk himself; if she wanted to get through to him she was going to have to play aggressively.

A small laugh escaped her as she looked down at the 'nipple cream' she had unconciously plucked from the shelf. Despite her amusement, a new form of fear crept up on her and she was suddenly aware of the shelves and shelves of 'motherly aids'. She was fully aware of the fact that her body would be a mess after the birth, but looking at the hard evidence of such carnage unnerved her in a way she had not anticipated. There were boxes of sanitary towels stacked high, disposable underwear, bed sheets, creams...the breast feeding section alone brought a lump to her throat with the plethora of breast pads, anti-stretch mark cream, soothing cream and nursing bras.

She vowed not to allow the fear to overcome her and knew that no matter what happened, she would be breast feeding her baby. Despite the obvious benefits she had read about, she knew that she needed to pass on her antibodies to her child...hell, nothing would stop her from carrying out this essential act. It was not yet known if her child would be born with immunity to the viruses or if she could pass on immunity through breastfeeding but she clung to the hope that either one of these scenarios was true.

As she reached for a basket in which to place the items she held, she chanced a glance over at Chris and noticed that his eyes were on her. He was not aware of her at first but flashed her a sheepish smile before turning back to the task she had left him with.

Her heart sank when he looked away, forcing reality to sink in once again. Suddenly, she felt alone and helpless; feelings she had successfully avoided for several hours. He was not reacting to their shopping trip the way she had hoped and she knew the option that this left her with.

'I hope it's enough.'

* * *

Laden with more bags than either of them could carry, Chris and Jill stumbled through the front door, allowing it to swing shut forcefully behind them. Neither of them acknowledged the resulting sound, both more concerned with relieving themselves of the enormous weight they shouldered.

"Perhaps I should tell Claire to cancel the baby shower?" Jill thought aloud with the smallest hint of amusement in her voice. "I think we bought enough to cover any future children, never mind this one."

Chris forced a humorless laugh; an action that caused Jill to roll her eyes in careless frustration. Any progress she assumed had been made during their impromptu shopping trip simply receded into the shadows of the hope she found difficult to cling on to.

She could not recall the last time she had felt so comfortable with her husband, nor a time when she felt as happy as she had when they argued amicably over what colour the bibs should be. For a few short hours they had succeeded in falling back into comfortable territory, back into the feeling that they were husband and wife, so in love and bursting with joy over the impending arrival of their first child. He would smile at her and she would believe it, she would touch him gently and he would not pull away. She experienced the tenderness that he only revealed to her and she knew that she would do whatever it took to chase away the worry that had rendered him terrified of simply looking at her with love in his eyes.

"Chris, we need to talk."

Her words surprised herself more than they surprised Chris; they were uncontrolled and she was unaware of what she intended to say until the words were out there. In part, it was a lucky occurence; she knew that by the time she had worked up the courage to confront him on her own it would have been too late. After all, it was so much easier to take a step back and hope for the best than to push for a happy ending.

It seemed that Chris understood the meaning behind the words before she was given the chance to elaborate. He did not turn to look at her, instead turning his head only slightly and depositing the last bag carefully onto one of the lower steps of the empty staircase. If she were to make a premature judgement, she would have thought that he had been expecting to hear those words...but perhaps not so soon.

"Is this a sit-down talk or am I safe to stay here?" he asked, finally turning to look at her, a plastic smile on his lips.

"Chris, I'm serious," she breathed in exasperation. He could joke all he wanted but now was not the time. "We haven't talked seriously in...in so long."

He nodded slowly, agreeing but being sure to let her know that it was reluctant.

"What's on your mind?"

"You," she explained as she moved around the front of the sofa, hoping that he would join her as she took a seat. "I had fun today. I just want to know if you feel the same?"

A heavy breath drew her attention to the position he assumed at the edge of the sofa, keeping his distance in what she took to be a defensive move. She could almost sense the conflict in every detail of his physique; he knew the answer but was reluctant to admit it.

"It was just a shopping trip," he settled for. "There's nothing enjoyable about shopping."

"Liar," she whispered with a small smile. If his lie was a denial of enjoyment then at least some hope remained. "I've known you long enough to know when you're lying. You never were very good at it, anyway."

She chose not to respond as she felt him move next to her, positioning himself so that the distance between them was startlingly obvious.

"What do you want me to say, Jill?" he breathed. His forearms rested on his knees, his eyes focused on the fingers that intertwined. The myrtle-green T-shirt he wore pulled tight against his back in this position, shadows and thin fabric emphasising the contours of the muscle that she knew lay beneath.

Her mind screamed answers at her, ranging from the simple to the downright obscene. In the end the only answer that satisfied her heart was simply "anything", but something within told her that it would be the last act of a desperate woman and that there was no need for her to sink so far.

"I don't want you to _say_ anything," she replied. "I want you to _talk_ to me. These past few weeks have been hell and don't say that's not true because it's been painfully obvious that your thoughts are elsewhere. Where's your head at, Chris?"

He sighed heavily; an almost emphasised non-vocal response. Silently, she braced herself for another lie, convincing herself that she did not have to pretend to believe it. There had been too many lies and excuses lately, most of them from her, and she knew that they were getting them nowhere.

"I wish I knew," he muttered, lost in his own thoughts. It was, she concluded, a rare moment of vulnerability and though her conscience told her not to exploit it, a small voice in the back of her mind egged her on. It was cruel, that much was true, but it was also the break she had been hoping for.

"Then tell me how you feel...how you _felt_," she proceeded, closing the distance between them in what she failed to see as a risky move. "I've spent the last few months spilling my guts for you, I think it's about time you returned the favour."

His eyes scoured every inch of her body, forcing uncomfortable feelings upon her, but also a sense of hope. Perhaps he was searching for a reason to obey her? A reason to fight for what he already had? Perhaps he simply needed to be reminded that she was there and she wasn't going anywhere.

She moved a nervous hand to his knee, allowing her fingertips to glide further up the inside of his leg when he made no attempt to pull away. They remained respectful and were sure to stop before they strayed into inappropriate territory. All the while, he watched her and she acknowledged the shuddering breath that escaped his involuntarily parted lips. His eyes were loosely closed, savouring her touch in a brief moment of greed. She knew then that he needed her as much as she needed him, even if he did not realise it.

"Jill, don't..." he pleaded, though he remained still, as though his body refused to accept the words he was forcing it to speak.

"It's been difficult," she told him, ignoring his quiet plea. "For both of us. I can't even begin to describe what I've been going through. I've had to find myself all over again and while that happened I was forced to be someone that I'm not. I was weak, helpless...I still am. You were there through all that and though I never saw it at the time, it must have been just as difficult for you. At times I feel as though I don't even know myself and...I would understand if you felt the same way. I would understand if your feeilngs for me have changed, if-"

"Is that what this is about?" he asked with a trembling voice. "You think I don't love you anymore?"

The thought sounded much more terrifying spoken aloud than it had in her head. Part of her wanted to cry as he voiced the fear that had all but crippled her as it saw his words as an admission, not a request for clarification.

"Have you even listened to a word I have said in the past six years?" Chris pressed with his disbelief evident in every syllable. "Why is it that when I tell you about my day you don't question how truthful I've been yet you find it hard to believe me when I say 'I love you'? Well, I guess it's not like I ignored mission protocol to find you or travelled half way across the world just to find out if by a one in a million chance you were still alive and waiting to be rescued. Oh wait..."

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm," she lied, smiling inwardly at his suddenly defensive attitude. Once again he had provided her with ammunition. "If you do love me you've got a damn funny way of showing it. Do you even realise how much you have been hurting me lately? You will barely even look at me. Days like today are rare and when we finally do have fun, you deny it. Why won't you just say what's on your mind? What are you hiding, Chris?"

"I've been hurting you?" Pain mingled with disbelief as he struggled to decide which side he would play to. "I haven't done _anything_, Jill!"

"That's the problem! I showed you my journals, my deepest, darkest feelings and you ignored them completely and suddenly you're so cold and I just can't seem to get through to you. How do you think that feels? I have barely been able to trust myself, let alone others and when I finally go out on a limb to try to help our _marriage_, all I get out of it is more heartache. I wouldn't mind so much if you hadn't been begging me to open up. If you couldn't handle the truth then maybe we both should have just kept our mouths shut."

Her tirade was ended by a sharp pain across her abdomen and she felt a painful terror return. Remembering breathing techniques she had learned to help combat stress, she closed her eyes and began to breathe steadily, doing her best to chase the stress from her mind.

Chris showed no sign of noticing her discomfort and when the pain did not persist she was thankful for this small reprieve. If there were any indication that their talk was harming either her or their child she knew that he would refuse to continue.

"You don't know how I feel so don't pretend to-"

"Oh for God's sake, Chris, grow a pair," she growled. It was, it seemed, quite an appropriate time for a mood swing. "Whatever it is, it won't go away on its own. I trusted you with my feelings, the least you can do is trust me with yours."

"What's the point? I don't want to add to your problems, Jill. I can't be the reason- I just can't."

She took his fractured response as confirmation of her theory, as presented to her by her deceased friends. It was so clear to her now that she cursed herself for not seeing it sooner; he was overwhelmed, weighed down by the responsibility of knowing the truth. Leon was right; he thought he was losing her. Perhaps his withdrawal was an attempt to disconnect himself while he still could, to protect himself from the pain of watching her slip away from him...again.

"What happened when I was gone?" she asked, knowing that the key to his fear lay within the memories he had refused to share with her for far too long. "Tell me...tell me how you felt. I want to know."

Her words seemed to have rendered him speechless; he knew as well as she did that those two years were the key to their recovery as a couple. Even as he remained unresponsive, she could sense the pain that he had felt, the pain that she longed to help him deal with.

"I don't think you do..."

_The apartment was empty. This was the only thought that crossed his mind as he approached the darkness that he should have been facing with her. No attempts were made to illuminate the dark room and no sooner had his heavy bag hit the floor, he made for the refrigerator and the cool alcohol that had been intended for a joint victory celebration._

_Bottles only, no spirits._

_That had been her request. She had wanted to toast their victory, not erase all memory of it. Chris ignored the irony that his intention was to drink to their failure, to erase every memory of the events that had robbed him of sleep since their occurence. Just for one night he wanted to forget that he was alone and always would be from that moment on._

_The cold beer soothed his burning throat, but not the dreadful ache in his chest. His stomach was tight, his lungs constricting in failed attempt after failed attempt to squeeze every last molecule of oxygen from their confines. It seemed that in the haze that had been the last seventy-two hours he had forgotten how to breathe._

_Seventy-two hours._

_His initial assumption that the agony would become easier to deal with as time passed was proven to be false; if anything, time had only served to increase his suffering._

_His heavy frame fell into a sturdy plastic chair, the bottle resting casually on the kitchen table with his finger wrapped tightly around the middle. The condensation that edged slowly down the smooth surface stung at the many cuts and grazes that marred his tanned fingers. The icy glass contrasted sharply with the jagged shards that had torn at the very same flesh that night. He had not felt the pain then, as absurd as it was to admit. He had been far too preoccupied with the shards that followed her on her deadly descent, shards that would pierce the water around her only to disappear with the body he longed to hold just one more time._

_Slowly, the events that led him to that moment began to float through his mind once again._

_A sterile hospital room, pain in too many areas to count. A nurse glancing mournfully at him, checking his pulse with careful dilligence._

**_"Jill."_**

**_"Is she okay?"_**

_Three minutes. Three minutes of blissful ignorance had provided him with the comfort he had been denied ever since. He had remembered the mansion, remembering her falling away from him, hitting the waves as they crashed against jagged rocks. He had recalled the pain, the agonising moments he had remained by the window, willing himself to wake up. It seemed as though he finally had..._

**_"I should...get someone to talk to you."_**

_The nurse had known then what he refused to believe._

**_"I want to see my partner."_**

**_"I have to know that she's alright."_**

_Even then he had known that something was not right...things just didn't seem to add up. She should have been by his bedside. Maybe she too was injured? Maybe she too was asking to see her partner?_

**_"You don't remember?"_**

**_"Mr. Redfield...your partner is dead."_**

_He had expected his infamous rage to surface at that point, had almost expected to be forced into restraints and heavily sedated. Instead, he found himself incapable of moving. It was the reaction to be expected from any man who had been told his most painful nightmare was in fact real...that his world had vanished in the blink of an eye._

_They had told him how they had responded to the disappearance of his radio signal as the device was severely damaged in the fight, and then to the disappearance of Agent Valentine's as her body and radio hit the shallow water at the base of the cliff. They had told how they found him frozen several feet away from the body of Ozwell E. Spencer, how the only words he had uttered were a rushed explanation of Jill's fall. They had rushed to the window, radioed for a patrol boat to investigate the water below and by the time they had turned their attention back to Chris, he was unconcious and bleeding from wounds even he was not aware he had suffered._

_At first he could not remember the details of her death, but they returned to him in the few hours of sleep he was able to steal every night. They haunted his waking hours, driving home the fact that she was not beside him. Sure, the BSAA were searching the waters, but he knew in his heart that they would find nothing. This realisation did not provide him with the hope he expected; if there was no body there was no confirmation of death, right? Sadly, he could not look at it this way._

_She was gone. Dead. Finished._

_The tears came out of nowhere and he remained impervious to the shame that always accompanied them._

_Suddenly, beer was not sufficient to numb his mind from the pain._

_Before he was aware of his actions, he found himself rifling through his bag, casting aside the equipment in search of the whiskey he had purchased on the long drive to his temporary European apartment. He had known that returning to that place would be difficult and that returning to his true home in the States would be even more difficult. How would he explain her death to the others? How could he face them and their pity?_

_As his fingers brushed against the smooth glass of his impulsive, grief-driven purchase, he noticed the handle of a familiar firearm protruding from a pocket in the waterproof lining. The fabric did little to disguise the S.T.A.R.S. logo and the light from the street lamp outside reflected off the smooth surface in an ominous fashion. Chris had mistreated his own Samurai Edge, throwing it aside on multiple occasions in the original Spencer mansion and generally neglecting it over the years. The handle was chipped and scratched and though the gun still fired as it was supposed to, it's aestheic value had diminished greatly over the years. This weapon was pristine; even the minor scrapes seemed polished almost to perfection. Jill had always been careful with her guns, and he could not recall witnessing the weapon being mistreated in her hands. She was much less careless than he was and her perfect possessions reflected this fact._

_The gun was extracted with the whiskey and set on the table before him as he returned to his seat. He was deeply thankful that the gun had been returned to him; it was all he had that reminded him of her. When her sweet scent left the clothes that remained in their shared bedroom, when he could not recall the sound of her voice of the feel of her skin against his...when all that was gone, the gun remained and nothing could erase the closeness he felt to her as his fingers explored her beloved firearm._

_There was no glass for the whiskey, he drank straight from the bottle. He had known that vodka would have been a wiser choice to sear the memories from his mind, but the sting of slowly-distilled whiskey provided the sick satisfaction that he needed right then and there. It reminded him that he was still alive._

_Without her._

_His head tilted back, allowing as much liquid as humanly possible to saturate his dry mouth, not caring that it hurt like holy hell._

**_"We've set her status to M.I.A."_**

_An unexpected cough propelled the dark liquid across the clean table, stinging the corners of his mouth and the cuts that his chin bore. No matter how hard he tried to forget, the memories lingered._

_His comrades had assured him that it would be easier to deal with in time, but he found that hard to believe. How the hell could it be easy? Time wouldn't bring her back._

_Ten years ago he would have felt ashamed that a woman had driven him so far into the depths of despair. Ten years ago he would not have conceived being with a woman like Jill. He had lost so much over the years and gained so little...she was all that mattered to him, all that made him feel alive._

_'What about Claire?'_

_He scoffed at the thought. Claire had her own life now. Hell, she didn't even live in the same state as him anymore. She didn't need him..._

_'She loved Jill.'_

_How could he break the news to her? Would she even believe him? Would she blame him?_

_Yes, he was sure of it. She would blame him because it was his fault. If only he hadn't let his guard down..._

_"It should have been me," he choked into the silence, his voice heavy with regret and twenty-one-year-old Scotch whiskey._

_His fingers found their way to her gun, wanting to keep her by his side as he gripped the half-empty bottle in his free hand and limped towards the bedroom, not quite knowing what to expect._

_Moonlight spilled in through the uncovered window, casting its glow on the large bed like a natural spotlight._

_Chris felt his heart lurch at the sight before him. The bed had not been made, the sheets a violent mess from the morning prior to the failed mission. He could almost see where her body had lain, covered only in the thin bedsheet and his own damp limbs._

_**"Damn boy, you better be careful 'cause one of these days I'm not going to want to let you leave."** _

_He clenched his eyes shut, desperate to cling to the love in her voice. It was as real to him as he knew he would ever experience. She had loved him, loved him enough to die for him._

_"That wasn't how it was supposed to go."_

**_"What makes you think I would want to leave?"_**

_His legs carried him to the side of the bed, giving out as soon as he reached the bedside cabinet. The bed groaned silently beneath his weight, the gun threatening to leap out of his hand from the sudden impact. Whiskey drenched his hand as he pressed the bottle to his lips once again, not caring that little liquid was entering his mouth. He had never felt so desperate..._

_Chris did not know why he opened the drawer of the bedside cabinet, nor why he reached inside and pulled out a small, blue velvet case that he had hidden in the confines of the drawer while his beautiful girlfriend showered. Even his thumb seemed to work against him as it flipped open the box to reveal the ring he should have slipped onto her finger by now._

_He was so sure she would have said yes. It would have been the happiest moment of their lives and they would have fallen back onto the mess of bedsheets and made love like they never had before._

_Instead, he held the ring in his hand, his only company an old Beretta and even older whiskey. He could barely remember what she felt like. Never had he felt the need to take the time to memorise her touch, so sure that he would feel it again soon. He never had reason to believe that he would lose her...he never wanted to believe it._

**_"Can't we just stay here a while longer?"_**

_"Get out of my head," he begged through tears and gritted teeth. Her voice teased him, reminding him of what he had lost and showing no remorse._

**_"We've been waiting for this day for so long. I can't believe it's finally here...that it's almost over."_**

_The box flew from his hand, colliding heavily with the opposite wall. It did not bend or break, nor did it show any evidence of the impact, but the small diamond ring landed visibly by his feet, taunting him with its promises of what could have been...what_ _should have been._

_All he could do was wail into the empty apartment, the anguished cry of a broken man. He had broken many bones and ripped his skin many times, but nothing compared to the carnage within his soul. He couldn't breathe, coudn't even see clearly. He did not know if it was the whiskey or the grief and to be truthful, he did not care._

_The bottle slid from his hand, landing horizontally on the dark carpet and he could only watch as the contents soaked into the weave, drawing ever closer to the functionless ring. His other hand fumbled along the edge of the bed, sweeping over the cold metal of Jill's Beretta._

_As his senses dulled, his inner monologue became more confident. He should have died, she should have survived. At that moment he would have given anything to switch places with her. Anything to know that she was breathing, that her life wasn't wasted...anything to erase the hollow emptiness within. He knew that it was with him for life, that it would never be filled. The prospect of a life without her was just too painful to bear.  
_

_Suddenly, the pain began to ebb away. A solution hung in the air before him, whispering that this momentary relief was only a teaser of what was to come should he act on his thoughts._

_It was stupid, selfish and ridiculously desperate but when faced with the agony that lay ahead he knew that he would take selfishness, stupidity and desperation over a life without her. With Wesker, Spencer and Umbrella gone his life had no purpose. Claire had her work, Barry had his family and Rebecca had her research. He was alone and she was gone.  
_

_Gone._

_Without thinking, he raised the gun, pressing the barrel tightly to his temple. Sure, in the mouth would be easier...blow out his brain stem and cerebellum, just to be sure. Perhaps he thought that he could survive a shot to the temple, that he would awaken in hospital with no memory of Jill or her death? Death or blissful ignorance? Either way, he would be free from the pain and from the knowledge that the kindest, toughest, most intelligent girl he knew was dead._

_His finger slid over the trigger, preparing to squeeze without the slightest hint of remorse._

Click.

_Eyes opened wide, the weapon falling with his hand._

_It was impossible, he could have sworn-_

_Hastily, he ejected the clip, turning it over in his hand to inspect it carefully. Had he loaded an empty clip back at the base?_

_No...the bullets remained as they were. Intact and real._

_**"You're an ass, Chris Redfield...but I love you for it."**_

_The gun and clip both fell to the floor, landing clear of the saturated stain._

_"Oh God," he gasped. It had to have jammed. But it was Jill's weapon, she took good care of it...it never jammed!_

_The shame that had eluded him for so long settled in as the gravity of the situation sank in. He had tried to kill himself...Chris Redfield, the respected and highly-decorated soldier, had attempted to commit suicide, had given up and decided to end it all._

_Jill would have been ashamed of him._

_"What have I become?"_

"Chris?"

Jill touched his arm gently, snapping him from his terrifying recollection. He could sense the worry in her voice and sheepishly turned away from her. He was right, she would have been ashamed of him. Despite this, he could see the gentle insistence in her expression and felt his resolve weaken.

'Swallow your pride, man. Is this the response of a woman who will slip away from you?'

His conflicting thoughts confused him greatly; she seemed so strong yet still so fragile. Was she too weak to survive the stress or was it his own damn defence mechanisms that were telling him to run to protect himself?

"You asked me what was the worst pain I have experienced," he muttered. "It wasn't appendicitis...it was grief."

He waited quietly for a response, but she kept to herself and waited eagerly for him to continue.

"I was mostly numb when I lost my parents," he explained slowly and carefully. "But it hurt. Even when the guys were killed, I dealt with it in my own way. I was mostly angry, and by the time I'd worked through that the pain had faded. But when I lost you... Emotions aren't supposed to hurt that bad, Jill."

The hand that had rested on his thigh retreated, appearing once again to squeeze his shoulder in a falsely reassuring manner. He could tell by the weak grip of her fingers that she did not know to respond; it was a reaction he had expected and on some level actually hoped for.

"They don't have to," she assured him. "When all this started, I felt lost, confused and so hopeless. It was a pain I can't describe, but when you began to help me it became more bearable. You told me that you couldn't help me unless I let you in and I want you to remember that, because I do want to help you. I don't care if I have to pay for it because this is my fault to begin with. I'm not the only one who needs you here."

His eyes darted down to the bump that was almost hidden by the flow of the fabric that rested atop of it. The pregnancy never ceased to amaze him. He was not accustomed to such a concept and part of his brain still refused to accept that each day brough him closer to becoming a father. Lately, he admitted, the baby had been far from his mind. It was a shameful notion to accept, but his worries lay with Jill and what would become of her...what would become of _him_ when she was gone.

"I can't go through it all again," he sighed. "Face it, Jill, it was no minor situation that you found yourself in. It was lifechanging. At first I couldn't understand how it had affected you so much but now... I don't blame you for wanting to keep it all to yourself."

"It _was_ lifechanging," she agreed, shuffling a little closer to his stiff frame. "But nothing that happened should have affected _us_. You were always in my thoughts. Sometimes all that kept me going were memories and the hope that I would be able to see you again. So please don't say-"

"I tried to kill myself, Jill," he interrupted, desperate to quiet her vocalised thoughts before they overwhelmed him and provoked a breakdown.

She gasped at the confession and he felt her fingertips brush down his arm as her hand fell loosely to the sofa. He could barely hear her breathe over his inner-scolding. He was revealing too much, forcing too heavy a burden upon her.

So why did he feel the urge to continue?

"It didn't take me long to realise how stupid that was," he spoke softly. "I look back now and it seems even more selfish than it did back then. If your damn gun hadn't jammed, I'd have died that night. I was so convinced that it should have been me. I felt as though I had nothing and aside from alcohol dependency and smoking habit that was worse than it had ever been, I _was_ alone. You wanted to know how I felt, there's your answer."

Jill's shocked silence ground on his patience. She had pressed and pressed and _now_ she clammed up? It was hypocritical, it was-

Exactly how he had reacted to what she had to reveal.

For a moment that lingered too long to be brief, he saw the situation as she did and the realisation of his own selfishness stung painfully.

"God, Jill, I'm sorry," he moaned. "This isn't fair on you."

Jill smiled gently, taking one of his large hands in hers. He did not flinch as she pulled it towards her, holding the palm gently against her chest. The steady beat of her heart could be felt against his skin and his head turned at the silent confirmation it provided. She could not decipher the emotion that found its way into his eyes.

"That was all in the past," she told him, fighting back tears of her own. His words had weighed heavily on her conscience but she remained determined to follow through with her plan. "We were both different people back then. But I'm here now, see? This is real."

The pads of her fingers pressed gently against the back of his hand as they guided it down onto the curve of her bump.

"_This_ is real," she whispered.

A well-timed movement was felt by both parties and Jill gasped in surprise as she was pulled forward, warm lips capturing hers in the first true kiss she had experienced in weeks. Satisfied that she had finally eased him back to reality, she settled into his arms until he moved away.

His lips remained inches from hers, close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin. Conflict was evident in his eyes, though she detected that its presence was not as strong as it had been and that perhaps he was winning this fight. Whatever the answer, she knew that she couldn't afford to let him slip back, not even half a step.

"I had lunch with someone," she began, making sure that the momentary connection between them was not broken by maintaining eye contact. "I lied, she wasn't a friend, she was... Her name is Constance Beaumont, she is...she works with people like me and...well, she helps them. Travis suggested that I call her and I almost didn't, but then I realised that I was being stupid and selfish and that I need to face this irrational fear of therapy before I reach the point where there truly is no hope for me. It has been unrealistic and selfish of me to force my feelings on you. I've been neglecting your feelings and I swear, that is all going to change."

She paused for a second, searching his eyes for the joy that he made no attempt to hide. It was obvious that while the news thrilled him, he did not wish to jump to conclusions, so she offered further clarity.

"She seems nice," she continued. "She wasn't condescending at all and she seemed to genuinely want to help. I have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. It's short notice but she thought that mine was a special case with...well with the baby. I'm getting help, Chris...you're not going to lose me."

Silence lingered for a short while, and Chris turned away, his hands reaching up to hide his face. Jill waited patiently with baited breath until finally a quiet laugh could be heard, muffled against his skin.

At first, she was unsure what to think. Did he not believe her? Did he think that it was too late? Was he the crazy one after all?

A sudden warmth against her knee told that whatever it was, it was good...on more levels than she cared to think about.

"You're serious?" he asked, his smile brilliant in her eyes. All she could do was nod in reply.

"Come here," he whispered as he gently pulled her into him, holding her as tightly as their position and child would allow. "I'm so proud of you, and I'm so sorry. Do you want me to come with you? Tomorrow?"

Jill shook her head gently and he loosened his grip to allow her room to breathe.

"I have to do this alone," she explained. "I have to stop being afraid."

The smile that he offered in response was heartfelt and the shame that approached him was enough to force his head to bow. It amazed him how one moment could change any situation, any _life_. It also amazed him how one simple admission could alert him to weeks of stupidity on his own account. He knew that he had been scared of falling back into his depressed former state of mind and especially of experiencing that crippling pain one more time. Somehow he could discern no logical reason for acting in such a manner. The fear still lurked within, but he could see that the woman he had been worried for was not the fragile package her writings would have suggested. They were accounts written by a woman overwhelmed by pain and regret...this woman was fighting back with strength that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. This woman was Jill Valentine.

"She wants to see you, too," Jill spoke quietly. "She thinks that it will help to explore how this is affecting you and how it is affecting us as a couple and looking at the past two weeks, I know that she is right."

To his surprise, the suggestion did not provoke the feeling of fear and apprehension that such an option would have in the past. Deep down, he knew that she was right. He had been unwilling to admit it in the past, but he knew now that he carried the burden of her pain and that it affected his judgement where both her and their relationship was concerned. It was a simple side effect of being in love.

"It's the least I can do," he admitted. He sighed inwardly at his morose intonation. It served only as evidence that there was baggage that needed to be dealt with. Her pursuit of professional help had satisfied his psychological defences for the time being but he could still feel the lingering promise of pain. It would be difficult for him to let go, he knew that, but with time and reassurance he was sure that his brain would soon realise what his heart already knew.

Realisation that he somehow found incredibly amusing crept up on him unexpectedly.

"You're doing this for me?" he asked with a grin that matched the hilarity he found in the concept.

All that Jill Valentine did for him was in reality for herself...at least that was what she would always insist. 'I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for me'. That was what she had always told Chris. Sure, she would do favours for others, but never for Chris Redfield...not that she would admit.

Chris gauged her reaction, analysing the narrowing of her eyes and the nose that twitched in suppressed annoyance. He had hit a nerve and he knew it.

"Don't push it, Redfield," she warned, eliciting a joyous laugh from her husband. The twinkle in his eyes told her to drop it and that somehow her reaction had told him all he needed to know.

'She has always been here...I just stopped believing in it,' he admitted to himself with a healthy dosage of shame. It seemed that she sensed an impending apology and slyly used her lips to silence him.

"It's not going to be easy," she pointed out. "Truth be told, we may never be the couple we used to be...but it's going to be okay. I can feel that now."

"You're right," Chris agreed. "We're not going to be the couple we used to be...we're going to be better."

Jill bit gently on her lower lip, fighting back the tears that his words ushered forth. He believed in them, he believed in _her_.

And that was all that mattered.

**AN - Please Review :).**


	14. Drive

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **Yes, I am alive. Sorry for the very late update, I can't even begin to describe how insane things have been. Even so, I'm ashamed that it took me this long to update and I only hope that this chapter makes up for it. It was quite annoying to write because I'd kind of over-planned it in my head. I had all these ideas and there was no way they would all fit in. It's a very flashback-heavy chapter and is pretty much intended to be a break from all the drama, both for everyone reading and for our favourite couple. Then there was my wish to make this 'situation' as real as possible and not the very sped-up version you usually see in movies and on TV. There's also a little setting the scene for next chapter, which will be the last chapter. Don't worry though, I intend on writing an epilogue which will likely be the usual five-digit word count ;).  
So, at the risk of sounding all soppy, this one is for everyone who has stuck with me this long :). The song that Chris and Jill dance to is 'Crazy' by Aerosmith and the chapter title is from a song by Incubus. Both songs belong to their respective artists.

I apologise for not replying to reviews this time round, I still read and appreciate every single one so thank you and keep them coming! Huge thank you to **Ryoko Metallium, Lemon Turkey, MsValentine, Ultimolu, JILLsandwiches101, d-chan-67, Anonymous, Keybladem, Stardust4, Devil Rebel, C. Redfield 86, janey's got a gun, Sparkle Valentine, xmenrocks **and** EvilKen00.** Your reviews motivate me when little else can...thank you!

**_Chapter Thirteen _**_- Drive_

_"Lately I'm beginning to find that when I drive myself my light is found."_

His desk was disorganised, his office unlocked and his paperwork unattended to in a move that would no doubt piss off his superiors.

Chris Redfield didn't care.

The only sound that made any sense to his ears was the frantic tone with which his wife had begged him to return home. He was so sure that his stomach had flipped inside out and had his heart not been beating such a furious rhythm against his ribcage he could have been fooled that it was not beating.

_"Chris, please, you have to come home...it's the baby."_

Her quiet sobs had torn at every fibre of muscle in his chest, her desperate plea stretching each second that he was not with her to lengths that were simply unfair.

The words that he had tried to speak calmly to her repeated over and over in his mind and he hoped that she had listened to him and had called for an ambulance or at least for one of the neighbours. They had too much to lose...nine months of pregnancy and it was all falling apart in the final few days.

Colleagues moved out of his way as he barrelled down the corridors, choosing the stairs over the elevator and sprinting to his car as fast as his legs would carry him. Even the scenery on the hasty journey home blurred together and he was sure it was not due to speed. He was careful to remain within the limits, not wishing to be pulled over when Jill so obviously needed him.

The black SUV pulled to a crooked stop at the edge of the driveway and he barely waited for the keys to leave the ignition before he leapt from his seat and made for the front door.

There were no signs of an ambulance or even the commotion alerting a neighbour to her condition would provoke.

'What if she passed out?'

His unhelpful thoughts did little to aid the guidance of his key into the lock and by the time he finally wrestled with the simple security measure he could feel droplets of cold sweat trickle down his biceps.

"Jill!" he yelled, flinging the heavy door closed behind him. The resulting noise elicited a surprised yelp from the direction of the sofa and he found his legs carrying him towards the source, his body working on pure adrenaline, nothing more.

"Will you keep quiet!" Jill scolded, glaring furiously at the unwelcome intrusion. "I'm trying to watch the damn TV."

In a fraction of time too small to measure, Chris felt his heart shudder to a standstill, his stomach violently right itself and his lungs simply refuse to accommodate further intakes of air.

"Bu-" he began, words failing him. Jill was fine...that much was startlingly evident. There was no blood, no tears, no screaming and definitely no fainting...just Jill, smiling at some dumb comedy show as though she had no other care in the world.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he roared, loud enough to startle his expectant wife. The worry and heartstopping fear that had driven him to drop his work and rush to her side dissolved into anger and confusion. "I was worried out of my fucking mind!"

The laugh that met his furious outburst irritated him deeply. He was amazed that she had the nerve; it was like waving a chew toy infront of a rabit pitbull. His anger was calmed only by the repeated mental insistance that she was pregnant, the love of his life and that murder was deeply frowned upon.

"I knew there was no other way to get you home," she explained, smiling from ear to ear in the kind of blissful happiness that not only baffled him, but also caused his fury to boil almost to the point of eruption. "Chris, I think I'm in labour."

In an instant, the anger and fury evaporated. His entire world existed only in her eyes at that moment, sharing in the anxious excitement that he witnessed within.

"W-what?" he babbled, coherent thought simply not an option at that moment. "You're- Now?"

Jill nodded slowly, her smile spreading even as he watched.

"I woke up at about four this morning," she explained in a hushed voice. "I felt...something. Butterflies. I thought it was nothing but when I woke up for real it was more obvious...like cramp. Now it's...getting regular. I think they're contractions."

She made a half-serious attempt to push herself to her feet but Chris found her arm first and held her steady as she rose stiffly. Her hair fell over her face, though it did nothing to hide the glow that had been so evident for months. It did not cover her flushed cheeks, her bright blue eyes or the soft, plump lips that parted briefly as she exhaled sharply.

"Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?" he asked, all slights forgotten in the heated excitement.

"No, it's too early," she laughed as she held onto his wrists while she steadied herself. "We've still got a long wait, I just...I didn't want to be alone."

Jill allowed herself to be pulled into him, wishing that she could fold into his arms the way she used to. Nine months pregnant and ready to burst, she could not help but look forward to her body shrinking back to normal proportions.

"You could have just told me the truth," Chris chuckled. "I would have come back, all you had to do was ask."

She smiled quietly to herself, leaning forward to press her head against his chest. Even after two months of therapy she still underestimated his kindness as well as his love. The simple fact that he agreed to attending the sessions proved that he was willing to do anything and everything to return to a state as close to normal as they could get.

They both owed a lot to Dr. Beaumont, and thanks to her counselling neither was afraid to admit it. They would both attend solitary sessions once a week and would meet together at the end of every week in a combined session. Jill had been unsure of the neccessity of such an arrangement but once the benefits of the therapy began to show in their home life, she could see the good that came from them. It had not been easy and there had been many tears, but for the first time in a long time she could put her hands up and admit that therapy was helping.

"Oh God, I can't stay like this," Jill groaned, pulling away from Chris and limping towards the sofa. Through the bliss and the joy, a sharp reminder of the grave discomfort and annoyance that had haunted her days of late returned. It was easy to forget that she accommodated a fully-grown child which had absolutely no regard for her organs, especially her bladder.

Chris approached her with well-placed caution, remembering all too well how irate and almost violent she had been when not distracted. Her mood swings had become unpredictable and without so much as a warning she was known to switch between maternal glee to wrathful vengeance in the blink of an eye. Considering the fact that it was he who had put her in the state she was in and that she had the tendency to remember this fact at the most unfortunate moments, he chose to keep his distance until she was safely back in loving mother-to-be mode.

The decision to join her on the sofa was easily made following a glare that he was sure shaved several years off his life. In retrospect, he could see that it was the devious hormonally pregnant side of her that had decided to scare him with her frantic phone call.

"I really hope this doesn't take long," she groaned as she allowed her head to fall onto his shoulder. "I take back all the times I said I'm going to miss being pregnant."

"Just think about it," Chris tried, placing an arm around her. "This time tomorrow you won't be pregnant, and we'll have a child."

She had known this herself, but when her husband's voice spoke those words they seemed more thrilling than she had ever expected they would.

"True," she smiled. "What is there to miss, anyway? I hate the fact that I'm craving foods that are no good for me, and that I probably weigh almost as much as you do. Not to mention I'm sick of sex feeling like a game of Tetris."

Chris laughed, agreeing with her complaint but not affording her the words. He had a sneaking suspicion she would only use them against him later. Memories of his sister's harsh treatment of Leon in the hours immediately preceding his niece's birth were still fresh in his mind. The less ammuniton he could give her, the better.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, his generosity not entirely selfless. "Have you packed everything?"

"Way ahead of you," she grinned. "I packed your bag, too. Figured you'd forget. Which reminds me, I spoke to the midwife and there's definitely a family post-natal room available so you can stay with me for as long as you can tolerate. All you need to do is fasten in the car seat before we go. I...tried to do it earlier but I couldn't figure it out."

Chris could not help but to grin at the thought of such a scene. Jill never had been practical in a domestic sense and when a belly that would not surprise either of them if twins popped out of it was factored into the equation, he couldn't imagine her fitting both herself and the sizeable car seat through the car door.

She seemed to sense his gaze as it lowered to her abdomen and she allowed her fingers to drift gently over the fabric of her dress for a brief moment. Nine months of pregnancy had stretched her body to dimensions that often frightened her, but she had grown to think of her bump as part of herself...part of her that she often could not imagine living without. All the discomfort, the lethargy and the mood swings were forgotten in the moments she glanced down and reminded herself of the life that was growing beyond the skin and flesh. This child had saved her life, that much she was sure of. She felt with her unborn child a closeness that could not be translated into words and feared the moment that they were forced to seperate.

It seemed that even after weeks of counselling she could still not shake the fear of being left behind. She doubted that she ever would.

"It's going to be okay," Chris assured her. His words were music to her ears, the promise of a hope she would not relinquish.

Once again, she was left wondering how she had come to be with a man who knew exactly what she wanted to hear and was not afraid to say it. It made a welcome change from the question of how the hell Chris Redfield became so soft. That was a question she would never learn the answer to. Or perhaps he had been this way all along? Perhaps she had been blind to his true self at first? After all, something caused her to fall for him, _something _made him worthy of her affection.

She had always hated guys like Chris; the ones that cared about nobody but themselves, thinking that they were always right and not giving a damn about anyone's opinion but their own, misogynistic to the bone, wanting sex from women and nothing more. He had never fooled her with his over-gelled hair and motorbike, cigarette in one hand and attitude in the other. Her initial, favourable impression was quickly abandoned during their first assignment together when the arguing began and his refusal to hear her input grated on nerves she never even knew she had. His temper had also been an issue in the early days; his irritation with his new partner and reluctance to express such rage created a tension between them so strong the other S.T.A.R.S. members began placing bets over who would be the first to snap and bludgeon the other to death.

It wasn't until just over one month later that she saw the side of him he had hidden with more emotional skill than she expected from him. A joint Alpha-Bravo mission gone wrong saw Joseph take an unfortunate shot to the chest. The bullet missed his vest by millimetres and before long he was lying in a pool of his own blood, struggilng to breathe. He was an open target, bleeding out on the freshly-polished marble tiles, a gunman firing clumsy shots into the heavy oak behind him. Wesker had sensed her next course of action and his voice screamed through her headset, ordering her back to her hiding spot behind a large steel filing cabinet. All she could see was a teammate wounded on the floor of a bank that should have been reclaimed by then and a masked gunman firing off shots that would end his life if he remained where he was. She pulled him to safety, kept him talking while the others finished the job and the medic was safe to attend to him. She had not felt the bullet enter her thigh, nor had she felt the second that barely grazed her arm. The bullet was wedged in deep, buried too close to the femoral artery to be safely removed without careful surgery.

She had woken up six hours later, groggy from the effects of the anaesthetic, to face an extremely worried Chris. Harsh words were thrown her way, accusations that she was too tired to agree or disagree with. He must have been shouting for fifteen minutes before the anger slipped away and he reached for her hand with a gentleness that threw her even in her drugged-up state. He had relayed his worry, honest concern evident in his bloodshot eyes, and she had listened. The revelation that his sister had been in almost the same position as her the previous year shocked her, not because of the story but because of the worry her seemingly unfeeling partner showed towards his teenage sister. His eyes displayed the worry that she knew he carried with him every day as he explained how she had been riding on the back of a motorcyle that somehow ended up through the window of a nearby boutique and wound up in hospital with a sliver of glass the length of her foot embedded closer to that all-important artery than was comfortable.

The fact that arrogant Chris Redfield cared for anyone but himself surprised her more than it perhaps should have done, but it also provided her with the answer to the enigma that was her partner. It was his parents, or at least their deaths. His explanation of how he had taken care of his sister and defended her for most of his high school life provided her with a more accurate depiction of his character. He was afraid to get close to anyone, lest they leave like his parents or the foster families that grew tired of them and gave up after as little as a couple of months. The world he had found himself in was less than perfect and he had to be selfish to survive. As for the women...it saddened her to know that he did not look solely for sex in a woman; it was simply all that they offered him. Chris was strong and very much capable of taking care of himself and his sister, but she lamented the fact that there was never anyone to care for _him_. So she made it her job. The bickering continued, of course, though it was friendlier and as time passed it trod the border between friendliness and flirting, and never seemed to care which side it stepped on. Though she never quite forgave him for admitting that he only acted like such an ass at first because he enjoyed arguing with her.

"You're zoning out again," Chris laughed, his voice cutting through her thoughts like a double-edged blade. She jumped a little, realising that her head had fallen against his chest during her lapse in concentration.

"Sorry," she laughed as she righted herself. "I was just...thinking about when we first met."

"Oh no."

She laughed again at his reaction, glad that he felt as embarassed about the whole situation as she did.

"Do you remember yelling at me in the hospital after the bank heist?" she asked, tracing small circles onto his chest with her index finger.

"I'm amazed that you do," he chuckled. "You were so out of it. You just kept staring at me like I was nuts."

He smiled at the memory as she moved her head onto his shoulder, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. The pain that had travelled through her concerned him but he knew not to worry; he had read enough pregnancy books to be able to deliver the baby himself.

"You know, that was the moment you became 'one of us'," he mused. "You saved Joseph's life and you disobeyed orders to do it. Not that they weren't shitty orders, because they were, but...you risked your life to save his and that was the moment we started seeing you as an honourable member of the team and not just 'the rookie'."

The thought had occured to her that this was the case many times in the past, but it felt good to hear it from a member of the team. Things had changed that day and she would have been foolish not to acknowledge the fact.

"Do you remember the Christmas party before...before everything?" she asked softly.

Chris sighed as he recalled that fateful night, wishing that they could return just for one night.

"How could I forget?" he answered. "It was the first time we danced."

Jill hummed in agreement, relishing the feel of his embrace as his arm moved tigher around her. It was a blissful feeling, one of being surrounded by love and adoration, experiencing a warmth that only a lover's embrace could provide.

It reminded her of that night...

_Every member off staff was in attendance, there was not a face she did not recognise. Even so, she remained against the wall, memories of her high school days flooding back to her in a sudden rush. She had not been unpopular and had never been short of male attention, but sitting out dances was her 'thing'. She would remain by the punch bowl, looking pretty in the dress she had begged her aunt and uncle for weeks to buy her, and prepared for the next invitation to dance that she would turn down. It was not that she was unhappy or did not wish to feel the excitement that dancing hand-in-hand with a handsome guy provided - and boy were those boys handsome. When she looked around the converted gym, all she could see were happy couples...and the chaperones. The chaperones were always parents, more often than not in pairs. It was an unfair reminder of the happiness she used to know, when her parents had each other and she had them. Dick found it hard to recover from the loss of his wife and the balm he used to soothe his grief landed him in jail._

_She much preferred to watch these happy couples, content in the fact that she had nobody to lose. Boyfriends always seemed to leave her before dances. Heck, she was amazed that she found herself in a steady relationship for senior prom._

_"Please tell me someone spiked the punch," Chris groaned as he sidled towards her, an empty glass bottle swinging skillfully between thumb and forefinger._

_"What is this, high school?" she laughed, taking a sip from her own cup. "It's sex on the beach, no spiking neccessary."_

_"Aw crap, I hate cocktails," he sighed. "Still, beats fighting my way to the bar."_

_Jill chanced a glance over to the converted reception desk - now a fully-stocked bar. She was unsure as to whether or not closing down the police station for a staff party was a good idea, but she would agree that it made a good venue for such an event._

_"Chris, there's no line," she laughed._

_"Yeah, but Forest is waiting round the side and everytime I go near the damn thing he pounces on me and tries to tell some lame joke that he apparantly finds funny as hell at this point."_

_"Drunk?"_

_"I'm surprised he's still standing."_

_They laughed together for a moment, and she waited patiently for him to fill a glass with the free-flowing orange liquid._

_"So what's your excuse?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise as he found the taste of the cocktail quite agreeable. "You've been standing there for an hour now. Kind of a waste if you ask me."_

_"I guess it's a good thing I'm not then, isn't it?" she spoke sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow again and suddenly she found it difficult to look him in the eye._

_He looked good...too good. His shirt was almost too tight, pulling against his muscles in a way that displayed them proudly to the world. A simple glance was all it took for her tongue to dart out and moisten her lips and her carnal urges threaten to break their chains. She had seen him shirtless, she knew what lay beneath the soft fabric. In her mind's eye she was peeling that shirt from his skin, her fingertips feeling every dimension of those hard muscles. He was breathing heavily, pulling her against his naked chest, his fingers buried deep in her hair, his voice whispering to her how much he wanted her, how much he _needed_ her..._

_"Hey, you okay?"_

_His voice pulled her from her reverie and she blushed, grateful that she wasn't male...at least her arousal was somewhat easier to hide._

_"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, reaching for an empty glass to fill. There was no way she was facing tonight sober._

_"You sure?" he asked carefully. "You look like you've got a lot on your mind."_

_"I just...Chase," she replied mournfully, without the need to fake hurt and confusion. "He broke up with me."_

_"Oh..." Chris exclaimed, not sounding entirely disappointed to hear this. "I'm...sorry."_

_"Don't be," she laughed humourlessly. Her mind told her that he had every reason to be sorry, but her heart refused to let her tell him so._

_The crowd continued to dance, bodies moving slowly as the beat changed._

'Say you're leavin' on a seven thirty train and that you're headin' out to Hollywood...'

_"Hey, old school," Chris laughed, downing the last of his drink before reaching out a hand towards his partner. "You want to?"_

_Jill stared at his outstretched hand, bewildered. She tried to pay no attention to the fact that her break up had been forgotten about so suddenly, but it lingered._

_"Do I- What?" she mumbled, eyes still trained on his hand._

_"Dance with me, Valentine," he clarified. "And don't say you hate this song because I know for a fact that Aerosmith is your favourite band."_

_She eyed him for a brief moment, amazed that he remembered such an insignificant detail. It had been mentioned once, perhaps twice, and not for a long time. A little voice told her that it was something and her heart agreed. Still, it was evidence that they were best friends, nothing more._

_His hand remained in front of her invitingly and before she knew what she was doing, her fingers were sliding slowly onto his palm and he was pulling her backwards towards the other swaying couples._

_The proximity of his body was obvious the moment he pulled her into him, placing a hand at her waist while he took the other in his own like a true gentleman would. She felt somewhat disappointed that he did not opt for the both-hands-at-the-waist position but was grateful for the respectful distance. Between the heat that radiated from beyond the extremely flattering shirt and the pleasant scent of cologne that washed over her, she did not think she could handle being pressed against a man's body, especially not Chris's._

_"So," Chris hummed as she moved her hands to the appropriate positions and began to sway with him. "What happened?"_

_She considered for a moment asking for clarification but she knew that he was talking about her non-existant relationship. It was a question she had avoided for the past few days by hiding their seperation from her friends. Break-ups had never been easy for her, not even when she was the instigator, but somehow the dissolution of this particular union affected her like never before. It was not that she had been in love with Chase, because her feelings for him had not yet escalated in such a manner. It was not even the fact that he was the first boyfriend she had flaunted in a long time that her friends had actually liked._

_It was his reasoning for letting her go that brought many sleepless nights to her lonely world._

_"It just...wasn't working out," she explained, knowing that she was telling the truth but hoping that he did not ask her to elaborate. "It sucks but it happens, you know?"_

_Chris looked down at her sympathetically but she avoided this unwelcome offering, focusing instead on a single button on the shirt she wished he had not worn that night._

_"You okay about it?" he asked, and she genuinely did not know how to reply_.

_Truth was that she was far from okay, but the sudden unexpected break-up was not to blame. The words that Chase had spoken to her the moment their relationship died haunted her and she knew that they would for some time._

"I can't be with you because you're in love, Jill...just not with me."

_'Who the hell does he think he is?' she fumed inwardly. 'He doesn't know me, he doesn't know what I _feel_.'_

_They were words she had thrown at him following his accusation, and though they contained the fury and hurt that she had intended them to he simply smiled at her and continued to insist that he was right. He told her how much he liked her, how they could be a great couple...but her love for another man prevented any of that from happening. He wanted her to be happy, or so he had said, and if happiness was to be attained she needed to realise her feelings and pursue them._

"You're in love with Chris."

_It was an absurd notion. Chris was her partner; her best friend and arch enemy all in one. He was annoying, he was opinionated, he was rough around the edges, rude and had serious anger management issues._

_She forced her eyes to raise and noticed that he appeared to have given up the wait for an answer, though a flicker of concern could be seen as their eyes met briefly and he smiled._

_'That damn smirk.'_

_Despite his flaws, Chris was hot and she knew it. His body was perfectly in proportion, his jawline strong, his lips inviting, eyebrows the perfect thickness, shoulders fantastically broad, chest hair-free and lightly tanned. He was all man and it was just what she liked. It really was no wonder that the girls of the R.P.D. would make it a point to wait around outside the S.T.A.R.S. locker room after training sessions._

_But something deep within her gut told her that lust was merely an excuse she was hiding behind, as was her constant insistance that Chris was a huge pain in the ass._

_Whenever a break-up or family troubles had left her confused and distraught, he was always the first on the scene to check up on her and offer support, be it in the form of company or a family-sized tub of ice cream. The level of care he showed towards his sister was touching and something she had always longed to experience herself. Even the constant nagging and reprehensive speeches that bored her to tears were in her best interests. Chris was a kind man, though he often hid it well, and he treated her with respect. In fact, he was the one person she knew she could depend on, the one person who never let her down. Begrudgingly, she also noted that she felt comfortable in his presence, and that she was happiest when she was at his side._

_Slowly, an errant tear slid down her cheek. She did not know where it came from, nor it's reasons for falling. It was silent, as was she, and barely made it past her cheekbone when Chris's thumb wiped it from her skin...and that was it. The moment she had been afraid to face. There was no denying the tingle that lingered long after his thumb disappeared, or the genuine thrill that lit every nerve in her body on fire in reaction to his touch. He cared, and she cared that he cared. It was pure, it was simple and it was unavoidable._

_She was in love with Chris Redfield._

_Within a matter of seconds the tear was not solitary. She was sure that her makeup was ruined, but all that she cared about was the reaction of the man who was the sole reason for her tears._

_"Jill," he breathed, puller her in closely when he witnessed her display of emotion. The swaying ceased and his arms were around her, holding her close to the body she longed for._

_The tears fell more forcefully._

_"Hey, it's okay," he whispered as her tears soaked through his shirt. "Come on, crying over a guy is just stupid."_

_It bothered her that he thought her tears were for Chase, but she chose to let him believe this lie. It was easier than admitting the truth._

_Even at high school she had never cried at dances. She felt ridiculous, but as long as she was close to him in that moment she did not care._

_She did not care because she held him with love...and for a moment she could have sworn that he was doing just the same._

"December?" Chris asked, highly amused for a reason she did not understand. "December 1997?"

Jill nodded to verify his remark, which prompted a laugh that conveyed not only his amusement, but also a little joy.

"I guess you were a few months behind me, then," he sighed.

A sudden gasp caught his attention and he turned quickly, a hand placed on her fully-grown bump in what was perhaps a risky move. Sure enough, a glare forced the hand to retract and he remained seated as she raised.

Her steps were unsteady, but her legs carried her in a circle around the soft carpet, her toes curling as she occasionally stopped to test her stability. The momentary fear that her eyes had instilled in Chris was overtaken by a more powerful sense of concern and he rose from his seat, maintaining his distance as he observed her movements.

"Do you want me to get you some painkillers?" he asked, keeping his voice low out of fear of provocation.

Jill exhaled sharply and shook her head, her blonde hair falling from her shoulders from this slight movement.

"I have no idea how long this is going to last so I want to save them for when it gets bad," she explained through involuntary laughter. "I'm more...worried."

Chris's eyebrows raised and he held out his arms to halt her pacing, his fingertips sensing the elevated level of warmth in her skin.

"Worried?" he repeated, as though the meaning of the word was foreign to him. "Jill, you're going to be fine. Both of you."

She gazed up into his eyes, smiling as she read his to say "I'll make sure of it". His touch reminded her that she was in the company of one who cared, one who would be there every step of the way no matter what happened. It told her that everything would be okay, and not just with the baby but also with them.

There were times when she felt uncomfortable around him; alienated and alone. They were fleeting moments at best, remnants of a recent past she was not proud of, but they were enough to force doubts and concerns into her conscious mind. Dr. Beaumont had advised her that it was normal and all part of recovery. The past eight months had placed enormous strain on both herself and her marriage, and what she had experienced left an imprint upon her that would be difficult to look past. Jill agreed, and knew that the fear and isolation she had felt had evolved into shame and regret over how she had lashed out. The feelings may never completely disappear and if they did not she knew that she needed to accept them and overcome them. With Chris by her side, reminding her how false these feelings were and how valued she truly was, she knew that it would be an easier task than either the doctor or herself anticipated.

"Can you get me some water?" she asked meekly, severing the contact between them. "I'm going to see if I can sleep for a little while. Something tells me I'm going to need all my energy later."

* * *

Jill's heavy breathing filled the bedroom, barely hidden by the short breaths of fresh air that breezed through the open windows or the near-silent hum of Chris's laptop as it rested on his knees. He was amazed how quickly she had been able to slip into unconsciousness, even how she could sleep at all.

He lay carefully on the bed beside her, appreciating the fact that she was too big to move comfortably in her sleep and therefore the knowledge that he would not be forced to move with little warning.

The laptop lay open, but his attention remained with her, marvelling how beautiful and peaceful she appeared whilst sleeping. She lay in the same position she had displayed for the past two months; on her side with her arms raised slightly to bring her hands close to her face. Her knees were pulled as close to her bump as was possible, with one foot curling slightly over his leg. Normally he would have paid no attention to this seemingly accidental detail, but given the knowledge he had gained from weeks in therapy with her, he knew that it was a simple, almost inconspicuous way of being able to assure herself that he was nearby.

He laughed quietly to himself before turning back to the laptop and continuing with his surreptitious research.

In light of her sudden change in condition and reluctance to express any needs and wants related to this change, he had taken it upon himself to conduct a little research. Paternity books had been startlingly unhelpful, as had the maternity books he had 'borrowed' from his sleeping wife, so he had begun to read real-life accounts of labour on various parenting websites Jill had bookmarked during the long months of pregnancy. It was an act he wished he had never committed; all he had discovered was that she would be in increasingly more pain until the child saw fit to make its long-awaited appearance, and that when that time did come, it would be messy as hell and likely involve blood and tears in places that were never intended to be torn.

If nothing else, it taught him that he was damn lucky to be a man.

Having had enough, he closed the browser and opted instead for the pictures folder, hoping that he would find some nostalgic images that would erase the words that he had read.

The photo album remained surprisingly empty, containing mainly photographs from the time following the Kijuju incident. Wedding photographs, casual group outings, images of Hawaiian scenery that Jill had snapped on their honeymoon, and beautiful snow-capped mountains displayed brilliantly against the backdrop of a vibrant sunset, taken on a skiing trip he had booked shortly after her return in an attempt to take her mind off the years that had preceded.

There was one other folder, an unnamed folder, lurking beneath these familiar memories and a quick double-click brought him to scenes that he had all but forgotten in the chaos that had been the last three years.

It was a party, or at least a gathering of friends and peers involving alcohol and music. It was by no means a celebration, more so a wake. The party that had been thrown to 'celebrate' the downfall of Umbrella held a great many dear memories, for him and for the others. It had been a cleansing of sorts, aimed to allow those who had lost friends and family to say goodbye and to toast to a future that promised to be so much brighter. The faces in the photographs, though so familiar, bore little resemblence to the people he knew now. They were filled with misplaced hope and a sense of relief that would not last. Sure, they had known then that the nightmare would never trult be over, but for just one night they were able to let go of the pain and be, well...normal.

He paused at of a photograph of himself, one hand clutching an empty glass, the other at the hip of a woman who looked just as beautiful in that moment as she did in the ones that both followed and preceded it. Her hair was still short at that point, still the deep chocolate brown that he had admired the day they had met. There were other photographs of Jill within that particular album, and in each one she had appeared wistful and somewhat absent. There was something beyond her eyes that troubled her, a grief that was not entirely directed towards her deceased friends. But this photograph was different...

Her smile was brilliant, her eyes alight with a level of hope and happiness that had seemed almost unattainable in those days. She was a woman in love, and the way that she held herself to the man at her side cast no doubt on the fact that he was the reason behind her smile.

It was a strange feeling to Chris, to look the past in the eye and not feel the bitter sting of regret or the deep pain of all that was and could never be again. He felt pride beyond words that he could make this woman smile as brilliantly as she did then, and a persistant longing for life to be as simple as it was in the moment that photograph had been taken.

After all, it was a moment long overdue...

_There was an unmistakable air of mourning that fell upon the smiling congregation. It hung thickly in the air, threatening to choke the very life out of him._

_Or was it his fear?_

_It was the moment he had promised himself that he would face his feelings, be a man and admit to what had been gospel since day one. Umbrella was finished, gone, in the process of being dismantled. All that they had been fighting towards for five years had been acheived._

_So why was he so hesitant?_

_Part of him screamed that Wesker was still out there, that their job would not be over until he was dead and buried. Another part of him rolled its eyes and passed this off as an excuse. Delays, delays, delays. Even when Wesker was dead, he would likely still find a reason to cower behind. Even if this were not true, who was to say that she would still be single when he finally shed his armor and confessed to loving her?_

_'Who is to say that she will actually love you back if you confess now?'_

_He swore silently into his draught, his hand unsteady as he topped up his courage and scanned the room for the woman in question._

_Then he saw her, smiling at something Kennedy was telling her, hanging on to every word as she always did. Her hair was slightly tousled; a welcome change to a style that was usually predictably straight. The cerulean dress that she wore hugged her figure perfectly, from the halter-neck and low-cut bosom to the hem that floated freely around her calves. Blue definitely was her colour, and he would not have been surprised if the dress had been designed with her in mind. As she turned, he was afforded a glimpse of her smooth back from the base of her neck to the small of her back where the fabric began once more; it was daring and sexy, a look that he couldn't help but notice suited her perfectly._

_Jill Valentine was perfection, and every moment that he delayed telling her so only made the fact more obvious._

_He turned from her direction, diverting his attention to his younger sister, who had begun to slam her fists furiously against the polished surface of the bar._

_"Look here, mister," Claire hissed, leaning so far over the bar that she could have headbutted the bartender - something Chris was sure she was only a matter of seconds away from doing. "I'm twenty-four years old! I'm twenty-four and I've had a _really_ bad day. So it really is in your best interests to fill that glass."_

_"I'm sorry, ma'am," the bartender smiled, obviously deriving great pleasure from her reaction. "No ID, no sale."_

_"Oh, for the love of- Chris! This is Chris Redfield, you have to know who he is. He's my brother, he'll tell you how old I am. Go on, Chris, tell him!"_

_"Oh yeah," Chris laughed. "You think I'm actually going to condone my little sister drinking? Not a chance."_

_A look of blind fury was flashed in his direction and before he could react he found himself trying and failing to escape a grip so painful he almost relinquished his grip on the smooth glass that rested between his fingers._

_"You know, this protective older brother crap is getting really old," she growled, digging her fingernails into his tricep. "Can you give it up just for one night?"_

_Chris smirked, despite the pain in his arm, and raised his eyebrows in a manner that screamed 'no sympathy'._

_"It's not my fault you forgot your ID," he pointed out before placing his half-empty pint glass onto the bar. "Finish this if you want, and maybe next time you should try sweet-talking Leon. You know how easily he caves."_

_The fingernails disappeared as she lunged for the glass out of fear that the bartender would snatch it away. He did not wait around long enough to tell if this was the case._

_As he turned back to the table their group had claimed at the start of the night, he realised that Jill was no longer there, Leon's conversation now being directed towards a thoroughly disinterested Carlos. A quick scan of the room confirmed that she was nowhere to be seen, not even by the hastily-erected 'wall of remembrance' upon which photographs of the 'honourable dead' were displayed in a morbid monument of respect._

_A gloomily slow song played over the speakers, couples dancing stiffly on the small hardwood dancefloor, swaying in the arms of one another to a beat they obviously did not recognise. It felt to him as though he were observing the dancing dead, corpses locked in an immortal dance of mourning and self-pity. Even as he stared, he could see the flesh falling from their faces, the colour leaving the floating swirls of fabric as the monotonous beat became one with their souls, tugging and twisting at reality until-_

_He shook his head, driving the images away and when he returned his gaze the couples were once again normal. Even after five years he found it hard to shake the trauma that had been inflicted upon him that fateful night in '98._

_"She walked outside a few minutes ago," Claire smirked, noticing where his eyes wandered. Stretching out a solitary finger on the hand that grasped the thick glass, she signalled to the open fire doors on the wall perpendicular to the bar._

_The draft that flowed into the ballroom through these open doors was measly at best. Even with this slight reprieve from the humidity and the added blast from the inadequate air conditioning system, the ballroom remained hot and stuffy._

_Chris attempted to use this as an excuse to follow his partner outside, throwing a quick "I need some air" at his waiting sister as he turned away._

_The breeze picked up as he neared the fire doors, sending an unexpected chill through his body. It was not enough to raise goosebumps, but his mind tried to construct this new sensory information into an excuse to remain inside._

_'Get a grip, you idiot,' he told himself, forcing his legs to carry him out into the night before the fear became too much. _

_He had stared the undead in their soulless eyes, ran from creatures that should not have existed and escaped from the closest place to hell that one could reach whilst alive, yet the thought of looking Jill in the eye and telling her how he felt terrified him to the core. He would take zombies over that confrontation any day, and he did not care how pathetic it made him seem._

_He found her alone and silent in the gardens, her body slightly bent as her arms rested on the stone railing around an octagonal man-made pond that served as the centrepiece of the impressive grounds. She seemed oblivious to the world around her, gazing down into the koi pond at the fish that were barely visible beneath the illuminated surface of the water._

_"Hey," he spoke softly, not wishing to scare her. Despite this careful consideration, she jumped as she turned, sighing in relief when she realised who it was that had startled her._

_"Chris," she breathed, laughing softly. "You scared me."_

_"No zombies out here," he pointed out, looking around to emphasise his point with a smile on his face. She tried to laugh in response, but all that escaped was air._

_Jill's body seemed stiff, her hands rubbing her bare arms to chase a phantom chill from her skin. It seemed to be a reaction to his presence but he chose not to read too far into it._

_"You okay?" he asked out of genuine concern. "It's not like you to just walk out like that."_

_"Yeah, I'm fine," she sighed. "I just...thought it would be easier when Umbrella was gone."_

_Chris moved closer as he silently agreed and failed to notice that her eyes suddenly darted to the ground at their feet._

_"It's not," Jill continued without prompt. "To be honest, it doesn't feel like anything has changed."_

_"Wesker."_

_Her eyes raised to meet his, a mutual understanding passing between the two. Wesker was still out there._

_It was personal, and they could not and would not rest until he perished._

_"I know that we have work to do," Jill spoke. "I know that we need to go after him, but I...I just want to rest for a little while. We're in the eye of the storm and I want to enjoy that calm while I can."_

_Chris nodded in agreement. They had both discussed with other members of the anti-Umbrella unit they had been working with over the past few years the possibility of proposing a more legitimate, legal unit to combat the fallout that was expected from the dissolution of Umbrella's assets. It was obvious that while the company disappeared, their creations would live on in the hands of the scientists that had escaped prosecution. For now though, the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium and various companies that belonged to the consortium were in the midst of a legal maelstrom that would not disappear overnight. Umbrella's deception had made it so that the world would be reeling from its destruction for some time. Time enough, it would seem, for rogue ex-Umbrella employees to conduct their business whilst attention was diverted elsewhere. In this time, there was nothing that could be done but to wait until the legal storm had passed._

_For now, they were free._

_"I was thinking, maybe a holiday?" Chris suggested. "It would be good for everyone to clear their heads, and for us to get to know Leon and Carlos in a more normal situation."_

_"A holiday would be good."_

_In the silence that followed, the nearby song of cicadas was strikingly audible. The music that played within the ballroom could not be heard that far out, leaving nature to produce the only sound._

_"Damn, that's loud," Chris laughed, ashamed that he could think of nothing else to talk about._

_"I guess it's mating season," Jill smiled. "Or perhaps it's because of the heat. Did you know that North American cicadas emerge at the same time, every thirteen or seventeen years?"_

_Chris blinked twice at the sudden information that his friend saw fit to bless him with._

_"Alright...nerd," he laughed. "I'll humour you: why?"_

_Jill smiled softly, knowing that he truly did not care about the life cycle of what he had once referred to as one of the ugliest creatures on the planet._

_"It's a defence mechanism against predators," she explained. "The idea is to overwhelm them. If they all emerge at the same time, no matter how many of them are picked off by predators, enough will survive to carry on the population. Most of their life is spent underground, waiting for the day when they can emerge and mate. The adults don't last long; they only live long enough to lay their eggs and ensure that the population survives."_

_She paused for breath and turned to smirk at him, eyes alight with a mischevious glow._

_"Sound familiar?"_

_"Oh, I get it," Chris laughed. "Most of our lives are spent underground, and finally we are all coming out of the woodwork to celebrate, knowing that our enemy's numbers have been severely depleted? So what, is this our mating season?"_

_Jill snickered, fighting off his hands as they moved to her waist suggestively. The more she fought, the weaker her smile became, until her hands pressed forcefully against his chest and pushed him far away._

_Chris immediately realised his mistake and began to apologise, trying in vain to restore the minimal distance between them._

"No, don't be," she insisted after his umpteenth 'I'm sorry'. "Just...we should get back."

_"Jill, no," he pleaded. "Let's just stay out here a while longer. It's been so long since we just...hung out."_

_She gazed up at him with wide, hopeful eyes until he offered her a friendly smile, hoping that it would be enough to placate her while he drew up the right words in his mind._

_"It's lonely," she gasped suddenly, blushing as she heard her own words. "I mean...all of this."_

_"It doesn't have to be," he whispered, his eyes never once leaving her pale features. He wondered if she would tan now that it was summer and they had time to do what they would normally have done on a hot summer's day._

_He had always tanned so easily..._

_"Chris, I-" she began, fear stealing her breath away before she could finish. "Never mind, let's just go back-"_

_"You look amazing tonight," he blurted, overcome by the sudden urge to find a brick wall and repeatedly slam his head against it._

_'_Amazing_? It may be true, but you could have gone with "pretty", "beautiful"...even "nice". "Amazing" sounds like the last word of a desperate schoolboy.'_

_"Uh...thanks?" she responded, baffled by his sudden awkwardness. "You clean up pretty good, too."_

_"But not like..." he began, his mouth seeming to operate on a level several dozen IQ points below his normal quotient. "You look beautiful, Jill...you always do."_

_He observed the corners of her mouth twitch, a light flicker in her eyes as she breathed in his compliment. If he hadn't known any better, he could have sworn that the words meant a hell of a lot more to her than a simple compliment was intended to._

_"Have you been drinking?" she asked as she stepped towards him, close enough for him to reach out and touch her arm._

_The artificial light from the man-made pond illuminated her face, emphasising the minimal make-up that accentuated her natural beauty. Her lips were coated in a pink gloss, as perfect and kissable as he had always seen them._

_Something lurched in his stomach and the alcohol that raced through his bloodstream faked the confidence that he needed._

_"Just a little," he laughed. "Just enough to give me the courage to do this..."_

_Before she could question his words, she was in his arms, those perfect lips pressed against his, unmoving except to allow a startled gasp to slip through. His hands were seperate; one at her waist, one on the small of her back, holding her to him._

_Then, in an instant too long for Chris's liking, her lips parted, her hands sliding over his jacket, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He was in sensory overload, every sensation melding together until he was sure that it was too much to experience at one point in time._

_She was here, she was kissing him, and for once he was awake and not dreaming. It was silly to draw such a comparison, because he knew that a dream could never feel so good. Her entire presence rained down on his senses; the intoxicating scent of her perfume, the sweet taste of her lipgloss against a backdrop of light alcohol, the warmth of her skin. He was amazed by how _natural_ she felt in his arms, as though she were born to be there. It made a hell of a lot more sense than their friendship ever had._

_Long moments passed before they parted, breathing heavily and attempting to maintain as much closeness as was possible._

_"Oh God," Jill gasped, eyes closed as she savoured the kiss that lingered on her lips. "This can't be real, this can't be..."_

_Her right hand found its way to his cheek, the other gripping the edge of his suit jacket._

_"I had to tell you," Chris whispered as carefully as he could as he opened up his heart for this one, perfect woman. "Or...show you. You mean the world to me, Jill Valentine. I've never seen so much passion and honesty in one person._ _You face even the most challenging circumstances with such grace and responsibilty that...well, a guy can't help but be in awe of you. You have an amazing soul, Jill, and I'm crazy about you."_

_Tears streamed from her carefully made-up eyes, though she made no attempt to wipe them away. Inside Chris's chest, his heart seemed to beat in tune to the achingly slow timeline he appeared to be trapped in. Seconds seemed longer, the air seemed colder, and Jill...she was crying._

_She did not regularly show her tears to others, though he had comforted her on many occasions, and so his assumptions lay in the 'I have scared her' field._

_"You didn't mention my looks," she laughed as she quickly made an attempt to wipe tears from her chin. "That's new... Like you wearing your heart on your sleeve. I...I don't know what to say in return other than...I'm crazy about you, too."_

_Suddenly, time returned to normal and all of the fear and the pain of unrequited feelings that he had felt over the years vanished, as though it had never existed in the first place._

_This time, she was the one who initiated the kiss, pressing her body to his sensually. His fingertips skimmed the bare skin of her back, daring to wander low enough to elicit a small shudder of what he could only hope was pleasure. The thoughts that flickered in and out of his consciousness did not linger long enough to be deciphered, but he knew that they were positive and that somehow this was worth the agonisingly long wait._

_He also concluded that his initial assumption had been correct; those lips _were_ heavenly to kiss._

_When they reluctantly parted, their faces remained close, breath skimming over skin as their hands refused to move from their desperately possessive grip._

_"So this...this is real?" Jill asked nervously, as though she feared that the moment would evaporate and be little more than another hopeful dream._

_"As real as you want it to be," Chris whispered in return. He was well aware of his feelings and exactly what he wanted from whatever it was that their friendship had evolved into, but he did not wish to scare her or to pressure her into something that she may not have been ready for._

_Four fingertips found their way to his cheek, as though testing his material existance. Seemingly satisfied by the results, she smiled blissfully._

_Happiness was an emotion he had not seen her wear in many years, and his pride swelled with the knowledge that he had contributed to this rare show of emotion._

_"I want it," she spoke honestly. "Whatever it is, I want it and I want it with you."_

_She laughed quietly to herself, smiling broadly despite the second wave of tears that had begun to show in her eyes._

_"I've never seen this side of you before," Chris chuckled, reaching forward to catch a tear as it fell._

_"Oh, shut up," she laughed, intending to pull away from him but instead only falling further into his arms. "This is your fault. I swear, if you tell anyone you saw me crying, I'll kick your ass."_

_He knew that she could, and laughed along with her, not quite paying attention to the formality of the moment. Her body was warm and that warmth was all that he could feel, passing through his skin, along his nerves and seeming to settle somewhere in his chest._

_The environment slowly dissolved around them and soon they were alone, aware only to the pounding of their own hearts and the emotions that were new to both. It scared him to discover the depths of his feelings for this girl, but the porspect of what lay ahead was enough to fend off worry and fear; whatever it was, it would be worth it._

_"I love you."_

_It was a small whisper, one he was perhaps not intended to hear._

_"I love you, too...Jill."_

* * *

The house was unusually quiet in the hours Jill remained in the bedroom. Between the silence and the early afternoon sun, Chris found it difficult to accept that he was not dreaming. He was not used to such calm, having spent the vast majority of his adult life surrounded by chaos and violence. When the silence was so peaceful he found it hard to argue.

Jill had been slumbering for nigh on four hours, during which time he had succeeded in fitting the car seat (and accepting many wishes of luck from passing neighbours), checked and double checked their bags and cooked and frozen several small meals, as various pregnancy books, websites and their midwife had advised them to do. He could not vouch for the quality of said meals but knew that they would likely be too hungry and too exhausted to care about the taste.

His constant pacing around the house did not cease when his chores had. Desperate for something to take his mind off the fear that was steadily building within his chest he set about cleaning the kitchen, checking the nursery and once again ensuring that the house was adequately baby-proofed. By the time he dragged himself upstairs he acknowledged that he was in much need of a brief nap as his pregnant wife was.

He reached for the handle of their bedroom door, easing the door open incase he woke her and provoked her hormonal temper. It was perhaps not such a good idea to allow her to sleep too long but waking her intentionally would provide much better results than waking her by accident.

It transpired that he need not have worried about such a mishap, as Jill was obviously wide awake when he stepped into the room. His initial reaction was to laugh, but he tried hard to suppress the laughter that longed to break free. Jill was poised low on the floor, kneeling with her forearms flat against the carpet and her head turned towards her knees, resting in her hands.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, sensing his amusement without looking up. "It's the only way it doesn't hurt so bad."

With great effort, she moved her head, looking up at him as he knelt before her and began to rub her back with a solitary hand.

"How you holding up?" he asked, the look of sympathy that he adopted more genuine than she had expected.

"Not so good," she admitted, gritting her teeth as her eyes closed. "I'm...beginning to regret...planning a natural birth. It's not too late for an epidural, is it?"

Chris laughed as kindly as he could as he pushed fallen hair from her eyes.

"Time for painkillers?"

Jill shook her head, cursing herself for her overpowering desire to hold out.

"They're still fifteen minutes apart," she explained. "Plus, my damn waters haven't broken yet. I've probably still got hours to go. It's my damn back; every time I try to stand it feels like someone's kicking me in the spine."

Chris's hand moved down her back, the warmth that flowed from his skin into her flesh soothing the dull ache a little. She wanted to express her gratitude but could think of no words that weren't an accusation or placement of blame.

"Well, if you can stand for a little while I'll help you to the bathroom," Chris spoke, his voice as soothing as his hand. "I ran a warm bath for you, figured it might help."

His announcement was enough to force her arms to move, her body folding backwards into a seated position while she briefly fumbled before she held onto his shoulder for support.

"You did that?" she asked, unwanted tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. It was a reflex she could not control, one that was governed by hormones she hoped would be out of her system soon.

Jill did not hesitate to accept the arm that he offered and held onto him for dear life. Her legs had all but turned to jelly; a side effect, she assumed, for remaining in a crouched position for so long.

While she had no problem undressing for her warm bath, raising a single leg over the side of the tub proved more difficult than she had assumed it would and every sense of dignity left within her slipped away as Chris gripped her tightly and helped to lower her into the tub. It was nothing he had not seen a thousand times before, but never when she felt so helpless and vulnerable. A strange form of trust seemed to be bestowed upon her husband and while she did not fully understand it, she was glad that it was there. He was truly trying and it forced her to push harder towards the many personal goals she had set herself; goals she had almost reached.

"Thank you," she laughed as her body became submerged in the water, the heat burning away all of her aches and pains. It seemed beyond her that thanks was not necessary.

Chris chose to reply with a chaste kiss, one which warmed his wife in ways the water did not.

"You better not be thinking of going anywhere," she warned with an amused smirk on her lips. Once he had assured her that he would not leave her side she allowed herself to relax, resting her back firmly against the curve of the tub.

Chris remained by the side of the bathtub, kneeling with one arm draped over the side as his index finger traced lazy circles on the surface of the warm water.

"Names," Jill laughed suddenly. "We never decided on names."

His finger paused for a brief moment as he considered her extremely valid point. Choosing names had always been something that they would 'get around to eventually'. All that mentality had left them with was a steadily-progressing labour and no name at all for the child that lingered on the edge of existence.

"We'll...get to it eventually," he laughed, trying hard to ignore the quiet 'ouch' that melded into her reciprocal laughter.

"I like Lillian for a girl," she mused thoughtfully. "Or Ava."

Chris pondered the thought for a moment, nodding in agreement soon after.

"I always thought Ethan was a pretty cool name," he offered, though it was evident from the drooping of her eyelids that she was not paying much attention.

Suddenly, a familiar pain began in her abdomen, relentlessly tightening for what seemed like an age. Instinctively, she regulated her breathing, closing her eyes tightly as she waited for the dull ache to subside.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice unsteady as she spoke through the final seconds of the contraction. Chris obliged with an answer and she breathed a sigh of relief, moving a hand to the very bottom of her bump.

"Twelve minutes," she smiled. "That's not so bad."

His fingers found hers beneath the water, grasping her left hand as her right remained at her bump. It was in that moment that she realised her wedding ring remained on her finger. She had always made a point to remove it before bathing or washing her hands, too afraid to damage it that she had begun to treat it with more respect than she sometimes showed her own body.

It could not be helped, not when it was a ring she adored so much.

_Agony. it was the only word she could find that came close to describing the sheer level of discomfort seemingly within every cell of her body. It was not pain, though various aches and pains flared at random intervals throughout the day. It was 'extreme detoxing', or so the medical staff had told her. Her body was in the process of flushing the last of the P30 from her system and she had begun to experience the tail-end of the related symptoms; discomfort, dehydration, disorientation, itching, insomnia and a series of migraines that their pitiful medication barely dulled._

_They had offered to sedate her, to allow her to sleep through the remainder of the 'detox', but she had politely refused. She had spent the better part of two years sedated in one way or another; physically, mentally...sometimes emotionally. It felt good to finally regain control over her body and she was not willing to relinquish that control for the sake of a little comfort._

_She was still unsure of how exactly she had come to lie in the bed she could not leave. She had known that disconnecting so suddenly from the supply of P30 would affect her after being pumped with the damn stuff for longer than she cared to remember. It was one of the many reasons she had asked Chris and Sheva to leave without her; she could feel her artificial strength fade and reappear erratically as she lay in Chris's arms. Holding on to the last of that strength had taken a lot out of her, so much that she had barely made it out into a cavernous tomb to rest for a brief moment. Her senses had been lacking at best and she was unable to sense the hulking monstrousity until it was on top of her, bearing down from the heavens with alarming speed. Several clips were emptied into its fleshy underside, not all of them belonging to her. She had not questioned the aid that she received, glad only that this third player was firing at the beast and not at her._

_Josh Stone, that was his name. A man with a kindly face and no-nonsense attitude. Somehow he recognised her straight away, unfazed by the reappearance of a supposedly dead operative. Over and over again he had repeated "They are looking for you". Who? "Your partner. Stubborn as hell. He must truly care about you to face this madness". It was those words that had brought her to trust Captain Stone and she had told him all that she knew as he half-carried her back to his waiting helicopter. It was a simple case of locking onto the signal emitted by Chris's GPS and following its course until the signal vanished and they were left to roam the skies, searching what appeared to be a semi-concealed volcanic island._

_She had succeeded in remaining awake for a whole five minutes after rescuing their teammates before her world went black, stealing several days from her before she woke again._

_"If you keep staring into space like that, people are going to think you've lost your mind," Chris's voice called out through the emptiness. "Hell, I'm beginning to doubt your sanity myself."_

_A smile crept across her lips as she appreciated his joke, however inappropriate it may be. It felt good to hear his voice again, real and vibrant, not some worn-out recording embedded deep in her mind._

_Jill turned her head to face him, analysing every inch of his new physique. It was far removed from the boyish athleticism that she remembered; this Chris was pure man, one hundred percent testosterone and brute strength. She wondered for a moment how those bulging arms would feel aroud her, if they would provide the same comfort that their smaller counterparts had._

_'It's been two years,' she reminded herself. 'Don't get ahead of yourself.'_

_"How are you feeling?" he asked with genuine concern, drawing ever closer to the hospital cot._

_"Like hell," she complained, gently rolling her eyes with a natural smile as she anticipated his next move. "Yeah, I know...I look it, too."_

_"What makes you think that I was going to say that?" Chris asked, pretending to be offended._

_"Because you haven't changed," she smiled. "Alright, you've changed, but _you_ haven't...Chris Redfield."_

_She saw the smile that he tried to conceal and offered one in return, hoping to chase life into the limp hand that held hers. Chris settled into the plastic chair by her bedside as she watched and never once did he relinquish his loose grip on her hand. It seemed uncertain, as though he was not sure that the hand was real._

_"They said I'll be fine," Jill spoke when the silence became irritating. "No lasting damage. Well, save for the hair. I think that's going to take some getting used to."_

_"I kinda like it," he commented, raising his free hand to take a lock between his fingers. The proximity of his warm skin to her face was harshly noticable and the words she had formed in her throat fell away._

_It amazed her how two years had rendered her almost incapable of speaking to her best friend. Words had always come easily to them, and this new situation was both strange and frightening to her. She knew that it was simple cowardice that had forced her into her current predicament. Two years with barely a word spoken to anyone had taken its toll on many areas of her psyche, not least her ability to socialise._

_She had often mused over how the world had changed without her, of how her friends had grown and whether or not it would be possible to reintegrate into the world outside of Kijuju if she ever successfully managed to escape. So far her experience of the 'real world' had constisted of being poked and prodded by nurses and an amicable midnight chat with Chris the previous day. From what Sheva and the nurses had told her, he had remained by her bedside almost every moment she lay unconcious. He had even taken to sleeping in the armchair beside her bed, lest she wake when he was not around. This knowledge had unnerved her, signalling that she had reverted to a state not unlike that which she had found herself in prior to their first kiss. It was a fearful love, one which forced her to all but forget the years they had spent together as a couple._

_"How is it going on the legal front?" she tried. "Am I a prisoner? Am I even Jill Valentine anymore?"_

_"That's up to you," Chris answered with a smile that suggested the meaning of his words ran far deeper. "But you're not a prisoner. You've been out cold for almost a week, a lot has happened."_

_Jill's expression sank into one of fear and bitter realisation as her mind told her that his words could only mean one thing._

_"They raided the lab," she muttered quietly._

_There was so much that they could have found in there; security footage, experiment data... All of Wesker's data remained in the laboratory's main computer; evidence of her misdeeds and records of her unmerciful violence. She cursed Wesker's cockiness; the lab was never meant to be found, not by persons who could understand the data contained within._

_"They know what he did to you," Chris told her slowly and carefully. "That's how they knew how to help you. The committee looked over the data pertaining to you first, to assess any possible threat that you posed. They know what happened...but I don't."_

_Jill raised her head once again, surprised at his admission._

_"I gave my statement to the committee, then I left," he assured her. "Whatever happened out there...I want you to tell me in your own time. All I care about right now is being here for you."_

_Jill swallowed the lump within her throat and bowed her head in silent thanks, his words pleasing her in ways she had almost forgotten. After so long in the company of her enemies, it felt good to know that someone cared about _her_ and not just what she was capable of._

_"They're sorting out your passport as we speak," he continued. "Since your status was set to KIA and not MIA it should take a little longer than usual, but Leon has managed to pull a few strings and as soon as you're rested up and get medical clearance we can get out of here. Not necessarily out of Dakar, but out of this damn hospital at least."_

_"Leon knows?"_

_"The government wanted to send someone over to check on the situation and when he heard that it involved the possibility of you being alive he asked to be put on the case. He should be here first thing tomorrow morning. They're probably going to want you to give a statement and submit for interrogation but you don't have to do that right away and Leon will be supervising no matter what, so there's nothing to be afraid of."_

_She laughed dryly, knowing that it wouldn't matter either way. After the hell they were all put through following the incident at Spencer Mansion she was sure that a friendly confirmation of facts would be a breeze._

_"There's not much to tell, anyway," she admitted. "I don't remember a lot of it. I guess...I guess I just reached the point where I stopped fighting and...hid."_

_Tears still refused to show and she swore inwardly at the damn dehydration. One of the rare moments she chose to let her emotions out, she lacked the capability to do so._

_Chris seemed not to know how to respond and settled for a gentle squeeze of the hand. It was friendly at best and simply added to her irritation. Every moment since she had been freed from her chemical prison had been spent wondering about their relationship and where they stood now that the years had passed and so much had changed. She still loved him, as she had every moment since that last R.P.D. Christmas party. The question was, did he still love her?_

_She was deeply ashamed and disappointed that she couldn't work up the courage to ask such a simple question. It appeared that perhaps she was still capable of fear, even after all that had happened._

_"Jill, I-" Chris began, choking on his own words before she had even registered what he had said. He appeared to be in extreme discomfort, and made every move possible to avoid looking her in the eye. Jill remained hopeful, eagerly anticipating his next move. Would he confess his love? Perhaps he would throw all caution to the wind and kiss her right then and there? Perhaps he could not find the right words to tell her that he had moved on, found someone else and was sorry for his own happiness?_

_As the Godawful lump returned to her throat she prepared herself for the worst. Of course if he was happy then she was, too. She would give anything to watch him smile, to see that glint in his eye that signified a happiness beyond words. Sure, she would rather it be her that was responsible for that joy but she would be happy that he felt it at all. Despite this, she was not so sure that her soul could handle another wound, not in a place so important as the heart. He had hers and he would take it with him, leaving her with only regrets and the terribly familiar wish that she had perished that night._

_'When did you become so soft, Valentine?'_

_She was sure that her younger self would have slapped her current self for allowing a man to dictate her life...for showing any weakness at all. So much had happened; she was not the same person that she was upon walking into the R.P.D. for the first time. She would like to think that she was a better person but she was not so sure anymore. She didn't know anything anymore..._

_Chris moved his free hand below the side of the bed, delving into his trouser pocket for something that she could not quite focus on._

_"I have something for you," he told her, voice shaking so slightly it was barely noticable. "I was going to give it to you after...well, after the mission. For some reason I couldn't let it go and I guess now I know why."_

_Her curiosity piqued, she pushed herself further into an upright position when he moved his hand away from hers. A small, velvet box was placed into her waiting hands, the soft texture feeling a little abnormal against her skin. It did not register in her mind what it could be until she pried it open and gasped in surprise at what lay within._

_It was a white gold solitaire ring, simple and elegant with a diamond that had obviously not come cheap glistening in the artificial light. There was no doubt about it that this was an engagement ring._

_"As I said before, it's up to you," Chris spoke nervously. "You're still Jill Valentine, but I thought, maybe...you'd like to be Jill Redfield?"_

_She could not think straight, her thoughts occupied by the ring in her hand and the question posed by the man next to her._

_"Aren't you supposed to be on one knee or something?" she asked, suppressing a laugh that would not have been appropriate at that moment._

_"I'll get down on both if it helps," he joked, and the laughter rang free, her body finding enough moisture to send a single tear down her cheek. "Jill, these past two years haven't changed a thing. If anything, they have made me realise that I can't live without you...and I don't want to. We've lost too much of our lives already and I want to spend however long I have left with you. I love you, Jill Valentine, and I want to be your husband. So what do you say? Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?"_

_The best friend within her wanted to laugh and proclaim "You soppy bastard, of course I will", while the lover in her knew that the situation required a little more dignity than this._

_"Yes," she squeaked; a sound she was sure attracted the attention of a dog somewhere but little else. "Yes, I will."_

* * *

The sun had begun to fade into the clouds, the light it bestowed upon the world barely enough to illuminate the streets. Chris paused for a moment, breathing in the relative silence of the empty street before pushing the last bag into the back of their SUV. He considered for a brief moment pointing out to his increasingly irate wife that they would likely only remain in the hospital for a night or two and that most of what she had packed was unecessary. It had occured to him that it was likely she was preparing for the worst; a long stay in hospital for both herself and the baby. Her thoughts for the future may have been more hopeful than they had months ago, but they sometimes still erred on the side of pessimism. She would call it 'being prepared', but he knew the truth. It was difficult to hope for the best when the worst had an awful habit of showing its face.

The car seat was fixed in place, ready for an awaiting newborn. It signified the end of what he had begun to consider an 'era' but luckily it was not one he was sad to leave in the past. Between the emotional battles and health scares, the last eight months had been nothing short of hell for both of them.

Before he could dwell on the thought too long, his cell phone began to buzz in his jean pocket, snapping his attention from the sinking sun at the horizon.

"Have you left yet?" an eager voice asked, provoking amused laughter from Chris.

"Not yet, Claire," he told her. "It's still too early."

He could hear her sigh in disappointment on the other end before relaying what he had said to a third person he assumed was Leon.

"It's probably going to be a long night, you really don't need to come," he thought to point out. "You could just stay at home with your daughter. Both of you."

"Nuh-uh," Claire was quick to object. "Katherine is at her grandma's for the night. Besides, you and Jill were there almost all night when I had her. The least I can do is be there for my friend...and I suppose my brother, too."

Chris grunted in mild agreement, not keen on reliving that night. He remained deeply ashamed of how he had acted towards his wife in the following months and knew that he could have handled it a whole lot better if he had simply took a moment to see things from her perspective and stop feeling sorry for himself.

Still, self-flagellation got him nowhere and if Jill was working to put her feelings of shame and guilt behind her, he owed it to her to follow her example.

"Listen, I just want you to know that I'm proud of you for how you've handled this," she admitted, a little reluctance evident in her tone. "To be honest, at times I wasn't sure you'd both make it this far. Your child really lucked out on parents."

He smiled at the kind words his sister spoke, seeing the truth that he would have denied months ago. Jill may have worried about being a good mother, but he knew that she'd had enough practice looking after him over the years. He could be worse than a child in a tantrum at times.

"Thank you," he said with a smile. "To be honest, I began to lose hope after the night Katherine was born but...it's not me you should be thanking."

There was a extended pause, punctuated only by a sharp intake of breath that preceded Claire's words.

"W-what?" she asked, stuttering in mild disbelief. "What do you mean 'lose hope'? You've been fine for months."

Her final sentence was posed as a question and though Chris did not understand her surprise, he humored her for the sake of conversation.

"Two," he corrected. "We've been fine for almost two months."

"But-" Claire cut herself short, a breath of disbelief reaching him a few seconds later. He could sense the contemplation in her silence and chose to wait until she saw fit to speak again. There was no use in probing; he had learned from years of failed attempts that Claire only opened up on her own terms.

"Just...call me, okay?" she asked, barely leaving Chris enough time to process this request before she hung up.

No stranger to being unceremoniously booted from a conversation by his younger sister he did not take her abrupt farewell to heart.

Once he had double checked the car seat and triple checked the contents of the baby's bag he locked the car and made his way back towards the house. The final item had been ticked off his mental checklist and he was finally able to breathe easily. At least, as easily as a man could when preparing for the birth of his first child.

"Jill?" he called, unable to locate her anywhere on the ground floor of the house. Given that she was not exactly the hardest person to spot those days and that she couldn't make it upstairs on her own due to the pain, he was curiously baffled at her sudden disappearance.

"Out here!" he heard a small voice call as he approached the dining table.

Jill waved weakly from the garden, seated precariously on a sturdy wooden patio chair. She looked a picture of discomfort and he was sure that the chair did little to ease her aches and pains, but when he felt the light breeze that floated through the back garden he knew her reasons for leaving the comfort of the house.

"Any better?" he asked as he approached her, ready to run to the kitchen for a glass of water and painkillers should she ask.

She did not need to reply; the fearful aura that had fallen over her was reflected in her every movement.

"I think...we should go soon," she suggested, grimacing for a short while until the pain passed. "They're getting really strong."

Her voice broke on the last syllable and before he was aware that he was moving at all, Chris found himself in the chair opposite hers, reaching out to rub one of her shoulders reassuringly.

"Hey, it's going to be alright," he insisted. "Can you walk?"

"I'd rather not," she laughed, though the attempt at humor was lost behind the worry that weighed down her words. "It's stupid, really. After all I've been through I'm scared of something as natural as childbirth."

Chris could do nothing but smile morosely. There was no way for him to understand what she was going through and what she was about to go through. Any words of support that he offered would be useless. He did not think that he ever needed his sister as much as he did in that moment.

All he _could_ offer was the truth made evident through their blood-soaked past.

"You've remained strong in the face of everything life has thrown at you and you've conquered it all. Somehow I don't think that's about to change now."

She choked on his honesty and moved a hand to her nose to hold back tears. After everything they had been through and especially after everthing she had put him through, he still had faith in her and she could not find the words to express how much this meant to her.

With the sudden surge of strength that she felt swep through her, she pushed herself to her feet and as expected, Chris followed. He seemed to anticipate her next move as he was open when she fell into him, ignoring the large obstacle between them.

"I'm glad that I'm doing this with you," she muttered into his chest. "More than that, I'm glad that I can share it with you. Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Do I have to play the 'I love you' card again?"

She laughed at his response and began to soak in the intensity of his embrace.

He would make a great father, she was sure of it. Somewhere, deep down on a fiercely primal level she was proud that he had fathered the child within her. It occured to her that it was not a very feminist thought to carry, especially coming from a woman who had fought to be recognised in a predominantly male-occupied line of work. Somehow, when it came to Chris, she didn't care.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," Chris mused. "About us, about our relationship."

"Good things, I hope?"

Chris laughed and placed a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"We've dealt with a lot of shit," he continued. "Both as partners and as a couple. The past few months haven't been easy for either of us, but- I guess what I'm trying to say is...we may have had more than our fair share of heartache, but we've had some amazing times, too. Those memories far outweigh the bad. Hell, I'll take the bad times if it means I get to experience moments like this."

His honesty was profound and Jill agreed wholeheartedly with every word. Happiness did not come cheap and now that they were reaping their rewards they were reminded of what it was that they had been fighting for; a world without fear. She had never expected the concept to apply to a world as small as their own, but it was evident in everything that they did. They were not afraid to love, to be happy...to be normal. Most of all, they were not afraid to fight for each other and for themselves.

Chris was reluctant to let her go, so remained standing as long as she could stand. There was obviously something about his embrace that comforted her and settled her nerves, and though he did not fully understand it, he understood that it was what she needed right now.

Slowly, her head moved from his chest, her arms sliding round until her hands left his body and returned to her belly.

"Chris, start the car," she instructed, unable to hide her joy at something that must have flown straight over his head.

Then, he followed her gaze. He was not entirely sure what it was, but her shoes appeared to be damp. His initial thought was 'Strange. It hasn't rained for a while'. It wasn't until a few moments later when the realisation of what had happened sank in. He didn't need the clarification that Jill provided a moment later.

"My water just broke."

**AN - Please review :).**


	15. Times Like These

**Only Through The Pain**

**AN - **So it's a little bit later than I intended and a little bit shorter than I expected (but still in the five-digit category...how do I keep doing it?). While this is the last chapter of the story, the story does not end here. I assure you the epilogue is just as important as the other chapters (details were split between this chapter and next and it is essentially an epilogue for all the characters).  
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. And now, because I am at a complete lack of thoughts and words to accompany them, I will mention that the chapter title is from a song by Foo Fighters (try the acoustic version, it's breathtaking) and the song on the radio is Collide by Howie Day.

A huge, huge HUGE thank you to everyone who has stuck with me to the end (or the prelude to the end) and to those who reviewed the last chapter. **MsValentine, Lemon Turkey, JILLsandwiches101, namine redfield, Ultimolu, Stardust, xmenrocks, Kenshin13, Ryoko Metallium, tek, d-chan-67, Rugbyfan, Sparkle Valentine **and** Keybladem. **I love to hear your feedback and honestly cannot stress how much I appreciate you all taking the time to review. I also thank you for making this my most reviewed story on FF! I know how easy it is to ignore that little button so I thank you from the bottom of my grateful heart.

**_Chapter Fourteen - _**_Times Like These_

___"It's times like these you learn to live again."_

Jill was impressed with the private room they had been offered; surely it had to be one of the largest in the hospital, never mind the maternity ward. It was enough to make her wonder if Chris had surreptitiously bribed the receptionist upon check-in. After all, she was far too preoccupied with the friends that had arrived mere moments after them to take note of what he was saying. All she knew was that she wouldn't have put it past him.

Their friends had begun to arrive mere moments after they had settled into the pre-delivery room, notified no doubt by Claire, whom Jill had been forced to call en route to the hospital. It touched her that her friends wished to be with her at this important yet extremely boring moment of her life. For a while she had assumed that her only company would be Chris and though she had been more than okay with that arrangement, it was nice to have extra support on hand.

"Eight centimetres," the midwife announced smiling down at Jill as she completed her examination. "You're almost fully dilated."

Jill could not find the good news within this statement, no matter how hard she tried.

"Eight centimetres?" she asked, her expression deadpan. "I was eight centimetres last time you checked!"

She had assumed that the ordeal would be much easier and simpler once she was safely inside the hospital walls and had her midwife and several other members of staff on hand to ease her worries and offer whatever relief she needed. After four and a half hours on a hospital cot in a private pre-delivery room, she failed to see exactly what was easier or simpler. Impatience was beginning to grate on her last nerve and when it mingled with the regular pains that were steadily growing stronger and increasingly frequent she found herself several contractions short of asking them to cut her open and get it over with already.

"Relax," the midwife advised, her smile adding to Jill's irritation. "Contractions can often slow down and even stop completely for a while. Besides, you were seven and a half centimetres last time I checked."

She winked, slapping Jill gently on the knee and although she appreciated the friendly reassurance she could not hide her frustration and let out an impatient groan. The months had proven that she had showed good judgement in choosing the kind and patient Dr. Hargrove as her midwife, but she had not given much consideration to how such a calm demeanour would annoy her when the pain was cranked up to ten.

"If you're getting impatient you can try to speed things up by taking a walk," Dr. Hargrove suggested. "Though if you want my opinion, you have nothing to worry about. Your contractions began less than twenty-four hours ago and you're already almost fully dilated. Your labour is progressing rather quickly for a first-time mother."

Jill scoffed at the idea of 'taking a walk'. She was sure that her legs would buckle the moment her feet touched the floor, and she had no desire to parade around the hallways in her floral hospital gown. It was not hospital-issue, Claire being kind enough to buy her a more tasteful gown for her baby shower, but it still bore a design that she was sure her sister-in-law had not put much thought into. It was nice, it just...wasn't Jill.

"I'll just wait," she breathed, resigning herself to the fact that she was giving birth to a Redfield and it would only be coming out on its own terms. "But thank you."

"Don't mention it," Dr. Hargrove brushed off. "The baby's heartbeat is strong, which is a good sign, and they are in the correct position so I don't think you have too long to wait. I'll be back for another check-up in about an hour but if the contractions get stronger, which they should soon, call for me."

Just as the midwife turned to leave, Chris appeared in the doorway, drink in hand. A moment of silence lingered as he looked expectantly at Dr. Hargrove, waiting for news, whether it be good or bad. The midwife simply flashed him a friendly smile as she passed and went about her business.

"Still nothing?" he asked as he crossed the threshold and passed a plastic cup to his waiting wife.

"Not a damn thing," she fumed as she accepted her requested beverage; water so cold the ice filled ninety percent of the cup. "Looks like we're in for a long night. I just- aah!"

Her free hand gripped the bedsheets tightly as the familiar sting of pain returned, twisting in her abdomen for what she was sure was the longest ninety seconds of her life.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Chris asked with his hands at her shoulders, providing support as she leaned forward to ease her discomfort. "You don't have to prove anything, Jill. There's medication they can give you to ease the pain."

"I'm not _trying_ to prove anything," she growled with bared teeth once the pain had subsided enough for speech to once again be possible. "I planned a natural birth and that's what I'm having! I've had enough crap pumped into me over the years, I don't want any more."

Chris's grip on her shoulders loosened and she fell back into the pillows, another frustrated cry projected into the atmosphere. He could not help but to smile at her insistance, noting that they were not words she would have used prior to their therapy. It pleased him beyond words that she was able to reference such a difficult time of her life so casually, but it brought him to wonder if her lack of desire for anything stronger than basic painkillers was a direct result of her captivity. An epidural would have left her essentially paralysed from the waist down and she had expressed many times in their joint sessions with Dr. Beaumont how she hated the thought of not being in control of her own body. The pregnancy had eased her fear in this regard, but he know that voluntary paralysis was going too far. Baby steps were all they could take.

"What is _wrong_ with me?" she cried out. "I was always the fucking patient one, the calm one. Jill Valentine was the person everyone could depend on to remain level-headed. What the hell happened to her?"

Chris risked a smirk, finding her frustration amusing in ways he would not allow to show.

"You're a Redfield now," he pointed out. "Welcome to temper tantrums, impatience and the constant need to be the best."

Luck appeared to be on his side for once, as Jill replied with a faint laugh. Though with the hormone-influenced emotional state he had come to refer to as 'Evil Jill', he was unsure if her laugh was genuine or if it was a laugh that signalled his slow, painful demise.

"The best?" she repeated, allowing Chris to breathe when Evil Jill appeared to take the backseat for once. "I think you're overestimating yourself, mister. You couldn't even name one thing you're actually the best at."

Chris thought for a moment, trying to put together an answer that she would not either laugh at or point out the many flaws in.

"Well, I got you pregnant didn't I?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, it is the _wrong_ time to remind me," she laughed, the smallest hint of malice hidden behind her smile. "And for the record, you're not all that."

"That's not what you've told me in the past," he countered with a smile of his own. "Must have been good if you kept coming back for more."

Jill slapped him in mock fury, finding it hard to argue with him even in her weakened state. It dawned upon her moments later that she had been momentarily unaware of the persisting discomfort and when a contraction hit a moment later she could have sworn that it was less painful than those that had preceded.

He had told her that he would be there every step of the way and though she had believed him, she had never expected him to have meant in a way far more helpful than mere physical presence. It should not have surprised her, but she had accepted that since her return from Africa she had essentially been getting to know him all over again. It was difficult at first for her to recognise which parts of the Chris in her mind were a true representation of the man himself. It transpired that they were one and the same, that she had not forgotten a single detail of the man she had come to love during her captivity. Upon the realisation that it had taken her almost two years to notice this, she found herself reluctantly agreeing with Chris: she was most definitely a Redfield.

"I love you," she muttered, barely paying attention to her own words.

"I love you, too," he returned. "Just hang in there, I know you can do this."

* * *

The room had fallen comfortably silent once Jill had succeeded in convincing Chris to take a break for a little while. While his company helped to occupy her mind during the more painful moments, his presence had begun to grate on her last nerve and she found herself wanting only peace and quiet while she mentally prepared herself for what the midwife continued to assure her was not far away.

"Knock, knock," Claire's voice rang out, disturbing the silence in a way that irritated Jill to the back teeth.

"Hey," she replied casually, succeeding in keeping unwarranted hatred from her tone. "I wondered how long it would take you to say hello."

Jill's friendly smile was not reciprocated, a sudden icy sensation descending upon her.

"How are you feeling?" Claire asked. Jill considered her response carefully, sensing from the detached manner of her friend's voice that it would determine the future course of the conversation.

Luck, it seemed, was on Jill's side as another contraction passed through her, forcing her head back into the pillows in an unconventional manner of pain management.

"Not so good," she answered with false laughter ringing around every syllable. "I don't think the baby wants to come out."

Claire attempted to offer a smile but it appeared absent and barely half-hearted. Her eyes drifted to the ground, hands nervously rubbing life into her arms. It was not behaviour that was characteristic of Claire, or of a Redfield in general.

"Jill," Claire began tentatively, finally raising her head and adopting a more assured stance. "The night I had Katherine...you told me that you and Chris had worked through everything and...well, that you were alright. Was that- Were you telling the truth?"

The sudden wave of guilt that hit the elder woman was unexpected, and she could not hide her shame from Claire. It was obvious to both at that moment that the truth was out in the open.

"Look, Claire, I-"

"You just thought you'd lie to me?" The shyness that had been evident in her form since entering the room evaporated and Jill suddenly found herself staring at the business end of the infamous Redfield temper.

She could do nothing in return but search frantically for an excuse that would heal the many feelings she had hurt with her casual lie. In the end, she found herself hoping that her child would see fit to end its stubborn residence in her womb and cut their awkward conversation short.

"It wasn't like that, I swear," she assured Claire.

"Then enlighten me," Claire demanded, now dangerously close to the cot. "Do you not trust me? Is that it?"

Jill wanted nothing more than to assure her that this was not true, that Claire was one of the few individuals in her life that she _could_ trust with such a sensitive subject. Truth was that Jill barely remembered herself that night; lying was not a trait she was well acquainted with. Still, she was left with the remains of that frightened woman; faint memories of desperation and the misplaced belief that no soul on earth could help her.

"That was the problem," she lamented, giving in to the truth. "It was not something you should have been burdened with at all. It was selfish of me to confide in you when you were weeks away from giving birth. You had a child to raise, Claire, you had enough to deal with."

Jill found herself unable to direct her gaze towards her lingering friend, and barely reacted when the hospital cot dipped slightly beneath her weight as she perched herself close to Jill's torso.

"I always find time for my friends," Claire spoke, her voice barely a whisper as she took one of Jill's damp hands between her own. "Especially when they need me."

Jill blinked sheepishly, gripping the warm hands that encircled her own with vigour. She felt foolish for denying the help that Claire was so very willing to give her. It appeared to be one of the many elements of friendship that she had forgotten in the months of feeling sorry for herself.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I know that's what friends are for, but...I guess my mind hasn't been in one place long enough to take a look around and see that I'm not alone. I know better now and I swear, it won't happen again."

The smile that she offered with this sentiment told her sister-on-law that the reassurance was meant simply to placate her and did not necessarily reveal the truth. Whatever was intended, she settled for the honesty that she had been denied weeks previously and laughed to lighten the inappropriately dark mood.

"It's alright," she joked with half-lidded eyes. "I just found out that Chris has been taking advice from pretty much everyone but me. I don't know how yet, but he's going to pay."

Jill laughed aloud, her body falling further back into the pillows that held her upright. She was all too aware of the second hand hastily winding its way around the face of the wall clock opposite her bed. She could tell by the ominous position of the others that a contraction was due and closed her eyes gently, hoping to ease her way through the pain as she had learned to do in the hours since arriving at the hospital.

Sudenly, the pain hit her.

"Holy _shit_!" she exclaimed, both hands rushing to her bump with impetuous urgency.

The pain flared through her abdomen, every other sensation blotted out by the sheer magnitude of the hideous feeling. She was sure that every nerve had been seared, that the pure agony that writhed within her would render her incapable of feeling anything if she found the strength to pull through.

"Jill?" Claire's voice came to her low and of a frequency so scattered it barely made sense.

Jill could do nothing but pray that the pain would pass and wait for the time that it would. Sure enough, time passed and the pain eased, leaving a persistant dull ache and feeling of intense nausea in its wake. It was then that Jill was aware of another sensation, one she had not felt before.

"Oh God, I think it's coming," she gasped, panic seeping into every corner of her consciousness. "I can feel it..."

Claire's eyes widened, her features caught in an expression somewhere between glee and gut-wrenching terror.

"O-Oh," she stuttered, attempting and failing to move her hands before Jill could grip them once again. "You're probably in transition...I know it feels like it's coming, but it may still be another hour or more. That part really pissed me off, too. Just...relax or you're going to make yourself sick and trust me, that's not pretty."

Claire's attempt to inject some humour into the daunting situation failed when Jill's already vice-like grip on her hand became tighter, her breathing sinking into a manner as close to controlled as she could manage as another agonising contraction swept through her.

"T-Though your labour has gone pretty fast so far," the redhead noted as she succeeded in prying pale fingers from her own. She rubbed at the red welts that Jill's desperate hold had left, finding no comfort in the knowledge that her fingers could not be moved without sending sharp, stabbing pains along her wrist. Nevertheless, she could not hold this unintentional (she assumed) injury against Jill, having been in the same situation herself not too long ago. It was enough to invoke within her a sense of guilt for putting her fiancé through something she was sure had been a thousand times worse. Labour was not an easy event to experience first-hand and for the first time since her own she could see that perhaps it was more difficult on those forced to sit through it and bear the brunt of an agonised woman's furious temper.

"I'll get the midwife," she announced, turning on her heel before the sentence had completely left her mouth.

"Fuck the midwife, get Chris!" Jill countered, fingers digging furiously into the edge of the hospital cot's soft mattress.

Having never witnessed the usually placid Jill in such a state, Claire did not require much further persuasion to force her through the doorway and out into the quiet hallway. Her feet could not carry her fast enough, and despite passing the nurse's station and several lingering members of staff, she decided that it was perhaps in her best interests to follow her friend's forceful request.

"Hey, what's the rush?" Chris enquired as she skidded to a halt by the water cooler, gripping one of his wrists to keep herself steady.

"She's-" Claire, began, swallowing when her mouth ran dry. "You have to get back in there, it's almost time."

Her words registered within a matter of seconds but Chris found his brain working on overtime, weighing every detail of this situation before he chose how to act on it. Of course, there was only one course of action that he could take, the only way he _wanted_ to react, but fear had seized the reigns and refused to let him rush to her side immediately.

"Is she-?" he began, his mind pressing for more details.

"She's fine!" Claire assured him, craning her head past the cooler. "I'm going to see if I can find Dr. Hargrove, you just...get in there."

She was gone before Chris could compose a reply, shouting "And take lots of ice chips!" as an afterthought.

Chris was by Jill's side in a matter of minutes, ice chips in hand and an expression of carefully hidden joy shielding himself from her harsh words.

"Where the fuck were you?" she fumed as her fingers found his wrist, gripping them in a hold that was not as kind as tightly-clasped handcuffs.

"I brought you some ice," he tried. Jill simply glanced at the cup he held before her with a look that said plainly "And that is supposed to help _how_?".

Chris drew in a deep breath and settled beside her, placing a dangerous kiss on her temple with the added reassurance that she was doing just fine.

"I can't do this," she gasped, moments before she cried out in a far greater pain than she had experienced when he was last by her side.

His hand held hers tightly, the other finding its way to her shoulder. There was no way he could think of to help her; the situation was so foreign to him. Any requests for ways he could possibly help were met by curses he could feel burn holes into the atmosphere.

"I can't," Jill cried again, flopping back against the pillows when the pain faded. "Why isn't there anything I can do?"

She noted the fall in his expression and pulled herself together momentarily to apologise. The outburst had absolutely nothing to do with the emotions they had both been working through but the connection made between the two was natural and she was in no fit state to explain the many ways in which her current anger stemmed from a part of her that had lain dormant for most of her life.

"It will all be over soon," Chris soothed, allowing her to lean into him as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. "I'm not going anywhere, so relax."

"I can't," she breathed, suddenly leaning away from her husband and closing her eyes in one swift swoop of soft lashes.

A sigh reached her from his lips.

"Jill, you _can_. I know you can."

"No," she clarified, laughing a little before realising that this was a bad idea. "I meant that I can't relax. Every time I do, I feel like I'm going to vomit."

They both laughed, though Chris was unsure at first. Jill's shoulders relaxed and she folded into Chris's arms completely, waiting for the next painful contraction to hit.

"Stop laughing," she commanded, the humor draining from her voice as she spoke.

Luck, it seemed, was on Chris's side when a moment later, Dr. Hargrove appeared in the doorway. Jill seemed to perk up considerably when she sensed the new presence and once again moved away from Chris, obviously deeming him momentarily superfluous.

"Please tell me it's almost time," she gasped.

The midwife surfaced from between her legs after a few short moments, her smile wider than it had been previously.

"You're fully dilated," she announced as the smile lingered on the edge of her words. "It's time to take you to delivery."

Dr. Hargrove laughed at Jill's reaction. In all her years as a midwife, she had experienced nothing like it. Many parents-to-be smiled delightfully, held hands and gazed into each other's eyes in eager anticipation. Some sought comfort from each other as fear settled in. Never in her fourteen years in medicine had she witnessed an imminent mother's shoulders sag and head tilt back ever so slightly as she let out a jubilant cry of "Thank _God_!".

Even Chris found it difficult to remain composed.

* * *

A cold, clammy hand found his. For the sweat that was pouring off the girl, he was amazed that her body temperature could fall so low. As her eyes found his, he knew that her symptoms were not born from physical exertion; she was afraid.

"You're doing very well, Jill," Dr Hargrove's voice assured her. "A few more seconds and you can push again."

"Chris, I'm scared," Jill whispered in a voice only he could hear.

Her admission struck him deep in the pit of his stomach and he moved closer to her, pressing his lips to her temple when the distance between them allowed for it.

"It's alright, I'm here. I'm here and you're doing so well."

Jill had not once admitted that she was afraid. He had always been able to see it in her eyes, to detect that which had all but crippled himself. Through the mansion, Russia and many other horrors that they had faced together. She would scold him if he attempted to talk personal for fear of such an admission slipping through.

Childbirth seemed to be an element of a distant world, for both of them. It was never something they had considered or even hoped for, not since Umbrella forced its way into their lives. That she would admit fear of motherhood and of the delivery that preceded it carried a meaning he could not quite understand.

A woman who would not bat an eyelid when faced with a decaying zombie, yet feared delivering a child...only in their world could such a notion not seem absurd.

At the midwife's command, Jill pushed. Her voice was caged behind gritted teeth, hand crushing Chris's painfully. Still, he remained strong, forcing the pain to that place deep inside of him that had remained neglected since his retirement from active duty. He whispered heartfelt assurances to her, urging her to cry out if it helped.

"And rest."

Jill sank back against the pillows. Oh how she wished she had chosen a more comfortable position in which to give birth. Not that she would have been capable of twisting herself into strange positions, so sore were her limbs.

'Perhaps if you hadn't been flailing about for hours, they wouldn't feel so damn numb,' she scolded herself.

The pain was manageable at this point, if only for the fact that she was so used to it she was able to tolerate the strong, regular contractions.

Every time she lingered in the vacuum between contractions, she sought Chris's warmth. Part of her screamed in protest, insisting that she could take care of herself in every aspect, and that seeking comfort from a man was stupid on more levels than the human mind could comprehend.

Somehow, she didn't care.

She could feel the baby, somewhere south of her uterus. It pressed against every nerve, stretching her past her limits. A persistant sting lingered between contractions, but it told her that the baby was there and that it was on its way.

"And again."

This time, a cry escaped her. She could help it no more than Chris could help yepling quietly from the pressure she applied to his heavily abused hand. The baby moved, though only slightly. She doubted that the energy remained within her to see it through to the end.

Pain seared through her, relief far from her grasp as the baby moved further down still with little encouragement. She did not need the midwife to announce that the baby was crowning; the pain itself was severe enough. Something had torn, she was sure of it. There was no other explanation for the pain.

On the edge of Jill's attention she detected the nurse at Dr. Hargrove's shoulder lean in just a fraction of an inch.

"Nuchal cord?"

Dr. Hargrove's fingers slid softly down the sides of the baby's head, her expression turning serious a moment later.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Jill, I need you to push extra hard at the next contraction."

Jill's mind swam, the unfamiliar phrase tugging painfully at her concern.

"What's wrong?" she demanded softly. "What's a- What's nuchal cord?"

Chris's grip tightened, though it offered little comfort.

"The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby's neck," Dr. Hargrove explained. "Don't worry, it is very common and usually harmless. The cord is tight but I'm doing what I can. I can't yet reach to remove the slack so I need you to push extra hard next time."

Fury at being spoken to as though she were a child aside, Jill found herself eager to obey the doctor's orders and when the next contraction hit a moment later she pushed with such fury she was sure her head would explode from the pressure. The midwife's hands moved quickly but carefully and a moment later a smile was offered in reassurance.

"There we go," she spoke. "No harm done. One more push and we'll have shoulders."

Jill exhaled through pain and relief, noting that Chris's eyes were focused on her flushed face. He was holding back, she knew that now. It would have been so simple to lean but an inch to his left and observe the little of their child that had been exposed to the world. But he knew how important this moment was to her, to both of them, and wanted to share it with her as he felt they should.

"One more," he breathed softly, reminding her that she had almost reached the finish line and that rest and bliss were not far away.

Her eyes met his one final time and within the oceans of azure intelligence he saw her mind focus and her resolve strengthen. She could have been staring down a tyrant, so fierce was her determination.

She pushed, harder than she thought herself capable of pushing.

The world slowed to a halt.

Suddenly, there was nothing between her legs, the only pain a ghost of what had been mere moments before. Her hospital gown lay open haphazardly, exposing more skin than she usually would be happy with but she did not care.

How could she when a moment later something warm and wet was placed against her chest? Something wrinkled and slathered in a substance she dared not dwell on, yet still so beautiful...so perfect.

Chris's hand had slipped gratefully from hers and she knew not of his actions at that moment. She could focus on nothing other than the child against her chest and the movement that signalled its good health.

"It's...it's a boy," Chris breathed in utter amazement, though she did not need his words to confirm what she had already determined. "We have a son."

His voice pulled Jill back to the delivery room, and for a brief moment she was sorry to leave the void she appeared to have momentarily slipped into.

She looked to him and bit her lip to fight back tears. It did not matter if she deserved to shed them in that moment; she had sworn to herself that she would remain as composed as possible in the moments that counted.

"Would you like to cut the cord?" Dr. Hargrove asked, turning towards Chris for just a moment.

He looked to Jill, seeking permission. She knew in an instant that she could not refuse him, not when his eyes revealed the meaning behind the act.

Jill watched with a smile on her lips as he cut through the spongy cord, moving her hands as the nurse towel-dried the baby at her breast.

No sooner had the cord been cut, a piercing shriek filled the room, the baby's face flushing a deep shade of crimson as it wailed the last of its breath away. The sound tugged at something within Jill's chest and she moved her hands once again to hold him close, desperate to comfort the frightened child.

"Hey, it's okay," she hushed quietly. "It's okay. I'm here. You remember me..."

An overwhelming feeling of protectiveness and deep-set love overcame her and suddenly she knew how to react to such a foreign experience. An index finger slipped into the baby's hand, the strength of his grip surprising her. Within moments and following whispered reassurances, his head turned into her chest and the cries ebbed away as he found comfort in her warmth.

"He's..." Chris began, unable to find the words to complete his sentence. Jill turned to him, noting that his eyes never once left his son. Even as he marvelled at her strength, his gaze was always on the boy, eyes alight with an emotion she had never before seen within the man.

She had known all along that their child would form an entirely new set of emotional capabilities within both of them, but the love within her husband's eyes surpassed that which she could have imagined. Her mind drifted back to the nightmare that had shook her months earlier and suddenly she felt an inexplicable need to protect both father and son, knowing that from this moment on the role they played in each other's lives would be far beyond anything Chris was familiar with.

"James," she whispered suddenly, snapping Chris from his momentary reverie.

He looked to her, his smile not fading for a second. Confusion settled within his eyes and she could not help but to smile gently at his lack of attention.

"He looks like a James to me," she announced. It was a decision she had made in a moment but knew that more thought could not possibly have been put into her son's name.

Familiarity flashed across Chris's face.

"James was my father's name."

Jill's smile told him that she knew, that the significance was the reason for bestowing such a name upon the child.

"Jill, you don't have to-"

"No," she interrupted, before he could insist otherwise. "You loved your father; I know how important he is to you, even now. You had a great relationship with him and I know you're going to have that with _your_ son."

His expression softened in quiet contemplation for the briefest of moments.

"Besides," Jill hummed, eyelids drooping as she battled a wave of fatigue that almost stole her voice away. "He does look like a James."

* * *

Footsteps sounded behind her, alerting her to a presence she should not have bothered herself with.

"Something's wrong," Claire decided, the nail of her right thumb whittled down into nothing. "They've been in there for far too long."

Leon raised an eyebrow beneath his fringe, as though contemplating whether or not it was worth commenting on his fiancée's thoughts.

"You know, just because you pushed like a demon, it doesn't mean every birth is as swift," he thought aloud.

His comment was met with an icy glare and the thumb fell from Claire's lips, now wrinkled and moist. She had worried herself rotten about Jill's pregnancy ever since the news was revealed to her. Jill and Chris had not been blessed with luck where their personal lives were concerned. They had quite literally went through hell for each other and she found the simple fact that they remained together, as in love as they had been a decade ago, both endearing and inspiring. Even so, they were at the apex of their struggle and the events that transpired that night would determine the future course of their lives.

She hoped that they would walk out of the hospital, all three Redfields, and never look back but to marvel at how they had made it so far.

Even so, the posibility of something going hideously wrong lingered in the air around them all. The others felt it, too, but none were brave enough to bring it up.

If something could go wrong, it usually did.

'But we're all still here,' she reminded herself. 'We all made it and we're stronger than we would have been otherwise'.

"Chris!" Barry declared with a smile, eyes fixed on a figure that stood behind Claire's chair.

Chris barely caught her as she half-flipped over the backrest, reaching for his arms should she need to shake information from him.

"We-" Chris began, catching himself as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards involuntarily. "He's beautiful."

Claire's worry seemed to melt away and she found herself with her arms around her brother's neck, caught in a deathly embrace of pure joy.

"He?" she whispered carefully. "It's a boy? Oh, Chris."

One by one, the congregation offered their congratulations and attempted to break through Chris's stupor but it became evident that nothing was going to bring him down from his cloud, not anytime soon.

Such emotion was rarely seen in Chris Redfield and though every single one of them could think of a thousand jokes to make, they all remained respectfully silent.

"How is Jill?" Rebecca asked, voicing the concern of the group. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine," Chris assured them. "She's exhausted but she's fine. I just- I can't believe she... She's got to be some kind of superhuman."

They all laughed, though Claire scoffed, wishing he had complimented her so following her labour.

"Mr. Redfield." A familiar voice to his left caught Chris's attention and he turned to look into the face of one of the nurses who had helped Jill through the second stage of her labour.

"Your wife has been taken to your postnatal room," she explained with a pleasant smile. "If you follow me I can take you to her."

Jill remained with James in her arms as Chris stepped into the room, the others following tentatively behind him.

She barely registered their presence, which resulted in a mild display of surprise when Chris settled into a chair beside the bed and softly touched her arm. Her bleary eyes struggled to focus for a moment and when they did she smiled.

"I did it again," she breathed triumphantly. "Or rather _he_ did it again. I thought it would be difficult..."

His eyes dropped to the baby that latched onto her breast, seemingly content in the arms of its mother. After a brief moment, James seemed to sense the strangers that had entered his small world and pulled away, pressing once again into Jill's bosom once she had adequately covered herself.

"He's quite curious," she laughed.

Chris smiled proudly as the congregation gathered around the bed, allowing Jill to bask in her moment. The urge to be close to her, and to his son, to hold them both and forget all others, was overwhelming but he knew that he needed to keep his distance, that the night must run on Jill's terms and nothing else.

She caught his eye beneath Barry's arm and something flitted across the surface of her thought, visible within her bloodshot gaze.

"Do you want to take him?" she asked softly, already knowing what the answer would be. She did not even wait for an answer to shift her grip on the bundle in her arms and prepare to hand him over.

Chris had not yet laid eyes on his son following the clean the nurses had promised in return for Jill relinquishing her hold on him back in the delivery room. The weighing, measuring, examinations and various other tasks had been performed as he held Jill's hand and tried to convince her that she was not dreaming.

His size for one impressed the much older man; for the extra weight that Jill had complained about, the boy she had given birth to was surprisingly small. To both of their delights he was declared to be of average weight and length for a child carried to full term. His eyes were the usual baby blue, skin peachy and flushed. Lips were a shade of pink that he knew his sister would envy, hands and feet still a little blue, which they had both been assured was perfectly normal. The thin hair that sprouted from his scalp was tinted a dark shade of brown not dissimilar from Jill's natural brunette tone. With mild humour, Chris noted that the hair in question drifted in all directions and no attempts to smooth it down proved sucessful. He knew that he would endure numerous jokes from his family if they picked up on this.

"This is surreal," Rebecca whispered, voicing the thoughts of every individual that stood before her.

A quiet ripple of laughter passed through the air. Nobody could or would disagree. They had fought long and hard to find normal once again, and finally it seemed that they had achieved this seemingly impossible feat. Families, children...who would have thought that they would come this far?

"I bet Wesker never saw this coming."

They all turned towards the source of this surprising comment, shock visible in each and every expression when their suspicions were confirmed and Jill stared back at them, blankly.

She registered their dumbfounded expressions and swallowed her words a moment too late.

"I mean..." she began, attempting to cover her slip of the tongue but instead falling deeper into a self-made hole. "He...this would have really pissed him off."

Jill set aside her shovel and smiled sheepishly. She wasn't quite sure how but she got the distinct impression that she had said something completely out of line.

The others failed to notice that Chris was the only one amongst them who did not seem the least bit surprised.

"You-" Barry began before he realised that words were useless. "Damn. I never expected to hear those words from your mouth."

His useless words seemed to convey what they had all been thinking and suddenly it dawned upon her that her thoughts had once again been up the wrong end of the ball park. The fact that she had not seen such significance in her own words brought a smile to her lips.

They were not words she would have spoken three months ago, perhaps not even one month ago.

'I'm back.'

She clung to the thought, though she knew it was not entirely true. There was still so much that needed to be done, so much of her that remained scattered around the shadowy corners of her mind. Though she would find every last piece within time, she knew that the shadows would remain. Even so, she would have her strength and that was enough to keep her from slipping into the darkness once again. If it wasn't...she had Chris and James, and she would fight 'til her last breath to hold on for their sake.

Suddenly, she was aware of the emptiness in her arms. James was not where he should be. He was young, he was weak and he was vulnerable and suddenly the presence of her friends brought down a feeling of intense claustrophobia upon her. Chris sensed her unease and within moments her mind cleared as her son found his way back into her embrace.

Be it survival instinct or selfishness, she allowed it to consume her because she knew that as long as she felt it, no harm would come to the boy.

It was obvious simply from the expression of his eyes that Chris felt the same way.

"He looks just like his mother," Kathy commented with an arm around Chris's shoulders. "But he definitely has your hair."

The mutual laugh that followed eased the tension and Jill allowed Rebecca to mount a failed attempt to flatten the runaway hair.

"I have to admit that I was a little worried," the Senior Pathologist commented. "I was afraid that everything that has happened lately would... I thought that perhaps it could cause problems now. But I can tell just by looking into your eyes that my worry was misplaced. You've bonded already and...Jill, I'm so proud of you."

Fatigue tugged once again at the edges of her consciousness and she found herself unable to coherently respond to the compliment.

"Oh no," she heard Claire cry, one arm buried to the elbow in her oversized handbag. "I left the camera in the car!"

Jill did her best to play the part of the overjoyed new mother, forcing aside the wave of darkness that longed to sweep over her. By the time Claire had snapped her final picture and the last of her friends had filtered through the door, she barely possessed the energy to keep herself upright.

It was a blessing when Chris took James from her once again, gazing upon his son's face when she knew he had only intended to lay him in teh cot beside the bed.

There were so many words that they wanted to speak, so many sentiments they felt must be expressed. But when Chris finally placed James into his cot, he was greeted only by silence upon addressing his wife.

Somehow, she had fallen back onto the pillows, in a position as close to laying down as she could adopt in her weary state of mind. Chris did not have the heart to wake her and left her instead with a kiss he pressed gently to her forehead.

It took every ounce of strength left within him to turn from his family, towards the single bed that remained immaculate, ready for him to fall into. His clothes were removed as quietly as possible and he slipped into the pyjamas Jill had packed for him without a sound, fearful that he would wake his sleeping roomates.

He was asleep as soon as his head had touched the pillow, and he dreamed only of peace.

* * *

A moderately restful night was followed by a disturbingly restless morning. Jill had awoken at the crack of dawn, mere moments before James cried out to her. Chris could do nothing but watch with pride as she attended to his every need. He wondered how long her smile would last, how many days would pass before she would slog around the house with bags beneath her eyes and a limp in her step.

James was taken from them shortly after Jill's father arrived, leaving the ageing man just enough time to meet his grandson before the last of the required tests were carried out and they were granted a moment's reprieve. Chris felt superfluous for the most part, but left the room once the conversation began to flow. Dick rarely spoke to his daughter alone so he felt compelled to give them the time when he could.

Hours passed, questionable hospital food was ingested and Dick set off home. Chris was sure that the nurses merely kept them in sight as a formality; James had passed every possible test within acceptable boundaries and Jill had no stitches to recover from, so the reason for their continued presence eluded him.

Music was playing through the radio when he re-entered the room, apparantly catching Jill off-guard as she staed lazily at the blue hat in her hands. Rebecca had dropped by on her way to work that morning, bringing with her clothes she told them 'better fitted a boy' than the neutral colours they had brought with them. While the thought of her friend rising an hour early simply to visit the mall for her sake bothered Jill, she said nothing for it was a nice gesture.

"Do you know what this is?" Jill asked softly once his presence had been registered.

For a brief moment, Chris adjusted his senses and listened to the words that flowed melodically through the silence.

_"You're barely waking, and I'm tangled up in you..."_

He smiled, recognising the familiar tune but debating on whether or not he should reveal this knowledge.

"Our wedding song," he spoke with a smile.

It was a subject that had caused little debate during the planning of their wedding day; the first dance.

It was the autumn the year of Umbrella's downfall; the sun had begun to fall and the air, while still warm, became somewhat bitter. They were a relatively new couple, still testing the waters of their relationship. They had been caught in traffic somewhere on the border of Oregon and Washington, tired and heading towards a meeting that would decide whether or not the idea that would later morph into the BSAA was one that would take hold. An argument had turned the air between them sour, and even the radio could not drown out the animosity. But one song had travelled through the veil, one song had caused them to look one another in the eye and laugh. Laugh because words had never so perfectly described what lingered between them.

How could they not choose that very song for as the soundtrack to their first dance as a married couple?

"I thought it was perfect back then," Jill commented. "But now it makes even more sense."

He joined her on the bed, moving his arm around her as she fell into him. Their relationship had never made sense, nor had the friendship that had preceded it. They were individuals on completely opposite ends of the emotional spectrum; he was brash and quite often afraid of what he felt, whereas she was more open to her feelings and more susceptible to the hurt that he often unintentionally inflicted upon her due to ignorance. They were a beautiful contradiction, falling perfectly into place when all the falling should have been apart. Once they had learned not to fear the depths of their feelings for one another, they found that it all made perfect sense and on many occasions wondered why they had ever been just friends.

Chris sensed her tears before they fell, and was quick to hold her to him, to place kisses along the top of her head.

"I never dreamed I would have all this," she gasped softly. "It's..._overwhelming_. I don't even know how to begin to understand what I'm feeling."

For once, he could understand how she felt.

"It's natural," he assured her. "Trust me, I feel it too. I feel it and I don't _want_ to understand it. We're happy, Jill. For once, I think that is enough."

She laughed into his damp shoulder before pulling away; not too far, but far enough to be able to reach a trembling hand to her eyes and brush away those pesky tears.

"Oh, God," she laughed. "I hope these damn hormones are out of my system soon. At this rate I'll have cried an ocean by his first birthday."

"Hell, Jill, if anyone deserves to shed a few tears, it's you."

Jill parted her lips for him as he leaned down to kiss her tenderly.

"Don't worry," he added with a twinkle in his eye. "I won't tell anyone."

He half expected her to push him in mock offense, or to throw a half-hearted threat his way. To his surprise, she simply hung her head and smiled through quiet sniffles.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't know how I'd have pulled through without you to lean on. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. You didn't deserve any of it."

"I deserved some of it," he pointed out, trying to keep her words from hitting his heart and ushering forth the emotion he had kept well in check since the previous night. "To be completely honest, I'm as much to blame as you for allowing things to escalate so far. I should have been there for you from the start, not running from my own insecurities. We pulled through_ together_, Jill."

His breath was stolen for several lingering seconds. Regret welled up in his throat, causing him to pull her against him once again and revel in the comfort of the arms that held him.

"We hit rock bottom," he continued as he turned to look her in the eye. "We sank lower than we could have possibly sank without divorce proceedings, and we pulled through. Despite everything that tried to push us apart, I never once stopped loving you."

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, forming the response he anticipated but did not wish for. Trembling against his torso, she raised her head after a few minutes of silence and her lips found his appreciatively. The ache within her melted away, the knowledge that she was still bleeding and aching in areas that were most uncomfortable inconsequential. His day-old stubble was coarse against her fingertips and though she knew that she would likely end up with a serious case of beard burn she simply could not bring herself to care.

"We're going to be okay," she voiced when the kiss inevitably broke. "All three of us."

Chris glanced over her shoulder at their sleeping son. He was fully aware that the greatest challenge was ahead, but he faced it with newfound optimism and even eagerness. He had prevented armageddon; how difficult could raising a child be?

Deep down, a small voice laughed sympathetically.

'Oh, you'll see.'

"You know, despite the nightmares and the scars I know will never fade...I wouldn't trade the past, not for anything."

Jill's admission did not startle her, but Chris found his eyebrows raising as his brain conducted a quick reality assessment.

"Wesker used me, and be betrayed everything I am," she clarified. "He tried to destroy me, but he didn't succeed. He didn't succeed because he never anticipated us. Everything he did only brought us closer and I don't care how pathetically soppy or chick-lit that sounds, it's the truth."

Chris chose to say nothing, only to smile at her proudly as she turned to delve into her overnight bag.

Jill cleared her throat.

"The, uh- The midwife will be by soon for another check-up," she informed him, dropping what turned out to be an awkward subject. "So do you mind changing him while I change myself?"

A blue onepiece - part of Rebecca's collection - was placed into his hands before he could answer. Chris was not sure that he would have answered positively, given the chance. Changing his niece had never been a problem, but Katherine was not his child, she was not his responsibility. Somehow the soft fabric in his hands seemed to hammer home the fact that he still had quite a bit of growing up to do...and he had to do it fast.

"Why do you need to change?" he asked as Jill disappeared behind the privacy screen. She had expressed reluctance to change infront of her husband, at least until she had returned to near-normal proportions. Chris had told her countless times that he couldn't care less what she looked like, but she had still refused to allow him to glimpse what she referred to as 'the damage'. He thought it was an attempt to reclaim the dignity she falsely believed had been lost during the last run of her pregnancy.

"These jeans are too loose," she explained as the offending article was thrown onto the bed he had occupied earlier. "I didn't think I'd shrink as much as I have so quickly. Fortunately I packed a dress."

Despite the truth that resounded in her words, he knew that she must have been omitting a few details. The waistband of the jeans was elasticated and would have clung comfortably to her shape. He concluded that it must have had something to do with the soreness she complained about but refused to describe.

Casting his sympathy aside, he reached down to pick up his son. Even as James fell against his shoulder, the baby remained stubbornly asleep, even going so far as to snuffle his annoyance at being moved.

What followed was a tricky operation in which Chris almost succeeded in trapping his hand inside a leg of the onepiece. James's affectionate grip on his shoulder proved more annoying than it did endearing when it came to wriggling the top half of the boy inside his clothing.

Once the final button had been fastened in place, he considered it a job well done. With one minor problem.

The warmth that pressed against him felt unreal; so much so that Chris found himself unable to place his son back into his cot and instead had to settle for holding him gently.

The soft breaths of the newborn resounded in his mind, the features that matched Jill's so well twitching occasionally in dreamless sleep. Disbelief returned, the weight in his arms foreign yet incredibly welcome. His nerves buzzed with an unfamiliar sensation that consumed every cell within his body, every emotion that his heart allowed to exist. In that moment, he was sure of nothing but his love for the boy...and the boy's mother.

He barely recognised Jill as she approached them, not sensing her proximity until she stroked the soft brown hair that moments later was tucked beneath a white hat.

"It's crazy how much I love him," she commented, pupils dilated as her dreamy smile spread to her expression.

Chris knew what she meant exactly. Something burned in his chest; something unfamiliar and almost painful. It could not be explained or described but he knew from the touch of soft flesh against his fingertips that it was something to be embraced, not feared.

The warmth that grew inside his wife when she absorbed the view before her flared, flared until she felt tears pricking at her eyes again.

Stubbornly, she refused to let them show.

* * *

Tires rolled audibly against tarmac and concrete as the SUV pulled to a halt outside garage doors. It was early morning and the generous sun shone down upon their house, lighting the way for their homecoming.

Jill chose to carry James inside the house, finding it hard to walk and coo at the same time. Anna King peered through an open window, offering a smile that offered all the congratulations that was appropriate while at the same time respecting the distance that the new addition to their family needed. Jill did not notice. James's blue-eyed gaze was hypnotising.

"Are you hungry?" Chris asked as he closed the front door behind them.

"No," she replied wistfully. "Not yet."

She found a seat on the sofa, sinking back into the cushions as though she did not plan to rise again. When Chris fell beside her she turned her body, watching with silent glee as her son's eyes left her features and began to study the stubble-coated face of his father. It seemed that he could not decide which sight he found more fascinating; his mouth hung open, hands holding down the blanket that swaddled his small form so it did not impede his view.

"You remember your daddy, huh?" she asked in the soft voice all women reserved for those who did not recognise words.

James took the finger that Chris offered and seemed not to know what to do with it. He squeezed, tighter than Chris thought a newborn should be capable of.

The stay in the hospital had been relatively pleasant. Jill and James were free to leave after the minimum twenty-four hour period had passed. The second sleep in the hospital had proven less restful than the first, mainly due to James's hunger patterns and the sheer volume of his cries. He had been born in the very early hours of the morning, and consequently was merely a few hours over a day old when they finally walked out of the hospital with one more family member than they had entered with.

They were both thankful that there were no complications, having convinced themselves that something would go disastrously wrong. Perhaps Fate had finally decided to smile upon them. The trials were over and they hoped that nothing but smooth waters lay ahead.

They rose together after a few moments, James attempting and failing to turn his head to observe his changing surroundings. His eyelids had begun to droop, a sure sign that sleep was almost upon him once again. For this Jill was thankful; perhaps she could steal an hour's rest herself before allowing maternal worries to swoop down upon her.

It was Chris who carried him upsairs, Jill needing a spare hand to grip the banister for extra support. The legs that trembled beneath her lacked the strength to safely propel both of them up the steps.

"I suppose you'll be sharing with us for a while," Chris told the baby in his arms as they stepped into the master bedroom. The immediate sleeping arrangements had been made under advice from the midwife and also eagerly supported by Jill's maternal protectiveness.

Chris would also admit that he was not fond of leaving his son to sleep in a seperate room, where anything could happen. It would take a short while for his fear to ease, but until then he was more than comfortable with sharing a room with a third party.

Jill's shoes hit the carpet with a soft thud as Chris placed James into his crib. Pain wound its way around her ankles, up her calves and shot back down to settle somewhere around the joint.

"Is he okay?" she asked cautiously, puzzled by Chris's reponse of a low laugh.

"Honey, take some time to think about yourself now and then," he purred, kissing the skin below her right ear as he reached down for an aching ankle.

His fingers worked the pain away, searing her skin with their tenderness.

"Rebecca said they could analyse his blood," she blurted suddenly. "I mean, it would be more logical to test him at his six week check up...she said. Something about colostrum and antibodies. She said it's likely he could have inherited my immunity."

At this, Chris ceased his actions.

"You mean he...?"

Jill smiled meekly and nodded, nose wrinkling as those damn tears resurfaced.

He dropped her ankle, speechless for the briefest of moments. There were times he had worried about Jill's previous conditions, fearful that something sinister may be passed on to their child. Despite the reassurances of medical staff and friends alike that there was nothing harmful in her system to transmit, the thought continued to sneak upon him like a knife to his back.

"I was so scared," Jill spoke through an involuntary sob. "I was scared that what Umbrella did to me would affect him. I thought I could never have children because of the virus in my system."

Their eyes did not meet as she relived this painful truth. They had both known when their relationship had begun that children was an impossibility for them both. Their line of work was far too dangerous, and when regular tests showed that the T-Virus lay dormant in Jill's system they lost all hope of ever starting a family. The virus was disabled; harmless to Jill and not transmittable by blood or other bodily fluids...but for a child. The medical staff had been unsure what would happen. Either the child would be born with immunity to the virus or the virus would be passed on, creating essentially a natural-born tyrant.

She had always feared passing the virus to others, and was careful not to injure herself for fear that the virus may somehow mutate and pass to the medic unfortunate enough to treat her. She had even been careful with her relationship, forcing Chris to wear a condom when she could remember, 'just in case'. The times they had fallen into bed with little more than oral contraceptives to prevent the existance of a little tyrant should have been enough to dispel her worry, but worry was all she ever seemed to do.

On rare occasions she had considered more permanent methods of conraception. Shame was all she felt over these emotions now; if she had submitted for a hysterectomy, James would not be here...and now that he was, she could not imagine life without him.

"The day I found that the virus was gone was one of the happiest days of my life," she sighed. "James could be the first person to be born with natural immunity to the viruses. He is more than a blessing...he is a miracle."

When Chris returned to the crib, she followed him despite the throbbing pain in her ankles. James slept peacefuly now, swaddled in blanket and breathing steadily. She doubted that she would ever tire of his beauty.

"I have a confession to make," Chris smiled.

She looked up at him curiously, finding that his eyes were already on her.

"They have perfected the vaccine derived from the anti-virus," he explained. "Trials were one hundred per cent successful and the BSAA plan to begin administering the immunisation to staff starting next month...and I'm one of the first names on the list."

When the time came, Jill found that she had no more tears to shed. Her only option was to cling to her husband, holding him as possessively as he often held her. The knowledge that he would soon be safe overwhelmed her with the joy it provoked. Their entire family...safe. It was a concept her brain found difficult to accept.

"They want to move on to schools next," he continued as his gaze switched back to his sleeping son. "Healthcare centres, anywhere they can. The viruses may be suppressed but you never know...the last thing the world needs now is another incident like Raccoon City."

Umbrella's legacy, fading out. The mark they had left on the world, the stain that remained, was finally washing away. It was a new start in the truest sense.

"We always said we could never raise a child in such a dangerous world. This one...I think I can give it a chance."

Jill sighed in agreement. All was well, or was well on its way there. Her mind, while still fragile, was healing. There were plenty of opportunities ahead for her to slip and fall, to drag her back down into the deep abyss of despair...they were all opportunities she would pass by, guided by the man at her side and her desire to remain strong for her son.

He may never know the role that he played in her recovery, and he may never know of the life Jill knew he had saved. Maybe she would tell him one day...if she could find the words.

When all is said and done, even wounded hearts can beat. Even the bad memories can come to be cherished.

When all was said and done, Jill could think of only two words to speak to her son...and to herself.

"Welcome home."

**AN - Please review :).**


	16. Epilogue

**Only Through The Pain**

_**Epilogue - **__We Can Never Break Up_

_"We've only got one choice, so let's keep making it."_

The weather was kind to them that day; the sun beating down upon the gathering, the grass remaining dry and the bafrbeque flourishing in the generous temperature.

Jill could barely contain her joy, despite her fingers being almost literally worked to the bone. So far, so good was her assessment of the day's festivities. Her homemade sausage rolls were a hit and the pizza bread she claimed was homemade was going down a storm. Friends, family, cake...what more did a mother-of-one need?

Having been lucky enough to attract the assistance of the majority of guests, Jill was left with time to herself. Noise drifted through the door to the back garden; indiscernible sounds that brought down an air of enjoyment upon the scene.

Chris remained ever attentive to the barbeque, working under the watchful eye of Barry Burton. She watched on in amusement, chuckling to herself as Barry lightly pushed his friend away, placing him on bun duty while he tended to the grill.

Next door's Labrador puppy bounded around their feet, chased by the youngest member of the Redfield family. The dog seemed to be taking James's pursuit in good heart, often turning around to yap in excitement. Claire remained with a close eye on their play, shouting frequent warnings at her nephew to be careful and 'play nicely'. As for James...he would not know what to do with the dog if he caught it.

Katherine followed close behind, apparently using her younger cousin as a human shield to hide herself from their playmate.

Sometimes she found it hard to believe that their son had been with them for two years. The reality had hit her only weeks previously, when she sat with her son on her lap, helping him to place blue handprints - the first was an accident but the idea stuck - on each of the invitations to his upcoming party. She was still caught by surprise when she thought back to the wrinkly baby she had brought home and compared him to the bouncing toddler with chocolate brown hair and brilliantly blue eyes. As he had grown into his features, it became apparent that he was his father's son; though the colour of his eyes matched hers, the shape was unmistakeably Redfield. Even the way his hair flopped in every direction but the right one, and the smile that hinted at a deep mischief, screamed Chris.

'At least he will be handsome.'

The greatest news had come to them when he was eight weeks old; news of something he had inherited from his mother that lay beyond the skin, something that he shared with her other than the shape of his nose and angle of his jaw. James Redfield was the first human being to possess natural immunity to Umbrella's viruses.

Jill had broken down and cried upon hearing the news, unable to tolerate the wave of blissful release that crashed into her. Chris had remained silent, but she could tell by the way he gripped her as they embraced that the relief had hit him in a similar way.

The immunisation had found its way around the BSAA, with Chris being lucky enough to receive a dose of the first batch. From what she had heard, schools worldwide had included what had come to be known as the Valentine Vaccine into their immunisation program. Jill was still unsure how she felt about the cure inheriting her former surname, but she was able to overstep the embarrassment with the knowledge that should anything happen, at least her family would be safe.

"Chicken?" Chris asked as he appeared seemingly from nowhere, holding a paper plate towards her. "Or lamb, I'm not quite sure..."

They both looked down upon the burger he offered.

"You're doing this deliberately, aren't you?" she asked in a distinctive huffy tone. "You know how much I craved chicken when I was pregnant with James."

"Just trying to keep your strength up."

The wink was the last straw, and though it proved nothing she snatched the burger from the plate and sank her teeth into the juicy meat.

She had rarely touched meat before her pregnancy, descending into a state of near-vegetarianism. While she had been a lax vegetarian prior to the incident in the Arklay forest, she seemed to develop an almost complete aversion to meat during her years underground. Frequently wrestling with what amounted to drooling, decaying lumps of dead meat could do that to a woman.

It made no sense when her pregnancy eventually turned her back into an omnivore.

As the taste settled in her mouth she found the crumbling meat falling from her lips and into her hand, which she used to deposit the disgusting mass into the waste bin.

"Lamb," she choked, placing the remains of the burger back onto the plate. "No good. Ack."

Chris's laugh broke through her disgust and she quickly forgot the dry taste on her tongue.

"More for me, I suppose," he teased before heading back into the garden.

Jill failed to see what had amused him so, but chose to forget his laughter. Chris's attitude had altered so much in the past two years that she no longer questioned reality when he surprised her. It was not an unwelcome change, or one that either parent minded; it was merely a change in outlook, a switch from gloom to shining optimism that often brought forth smiles for no reason at all.

An argument of serious proportions had not touched their relationship since James's birth. There had been usual scuffles and disagreements, and times where hours would pass with neither exchanging a word, but they would always catch one another's eye and descend into laughter over the pointlessness of it all. After the scale of the fights that had broken out during Jill's months of despair, no problem was too big that it could not be overcome.

All in all, their mischievous attitude towards each other amounted to what it had back in the days of S.T.A.R.S.; best friends who got up one another's nose every now and then but always found their way back to normal. Best friends who just happened to share a bed, surname and child.

Such was the triviality of marriage.

The concept of marriage and all it entailed lingered on her mind as she observed Claire and Leon conversing freely, deeply unconditional love visible in Claire's eyes as they flitted between her husband and daughter. Katherine had grown well, inheriting all of her mother's deviousness and most of her father's good sense. Jill concluded that it would be interesting to see how these opposing personality facets interacted as she grew up.

Katherine's presence at her mother's feet brought Jill's attention to James's absence, especially when the lone puppy was found moments later sniffing around a flower bed. Frantic eyes scanned ground-level and panic rose to her throat when her son was nowhere to be seen.

She was moments away from rushing out into the garden to call his name when she registered Chris's muscular figure once again heading towards her, James perched comfortable on his right forearm, smearing a sticky brown substance onto the neckline of his father's shirt.

"Hey mommy," Chris called as he drew near. "Look what we did."

James giggled uncontrollably as he held out a hand to proudly show his mother the fruits of his infantile labour. Jill blamed the crispy cakes, knowing that chocolate was a very bad idea in such warm temperatures. She also blamed the sister-in-law who had furnished the party with the offending items.

Her heart still pounded furiously in her chest, though it slowly fluttered back into a normal rhythm. A lingering remnant of the woman she had been during her pregnancy shuffled shamefully into the shadows as she reclaimed control, cursing herself for momentarily slipping back into the habit of pessimism.

"Is it too much to ask for you to stay clean for just one day?" she asked cheerfully. She pretended to be inconvenienced by her son's sudden need for a thorough clean, but in all honesty the simple though of it made her heart swell almost to bursting point with adoration.

"Oops," was all James had to say for himself.

"I'll 'oops' you!" she teased as she reached for the baby wipes she had placed nearby in anticipation of such an occurrence.

"Can I take the blame for this one?" Chris asked, much to her confusion. He stepped aside once James had been placed onto the kitchen counter, safely held in place by an ever-attentive Jill.

"You mean to say this is _your_ fault?" The usual eyebrow was raised, sarcasm burned deep into her expression.

"Oh, it's not my fault." Jill found this hard to believe. On the rare occasions their strangely well-behaved son found himself into trouble, Chris was never far from blame. Fortunately for him she found the father-son bonding too endearing to hold his mishaps against him. Besides, James seemed to enjoy it and it was not affecting his kindly behaviour. Given that her son was a Redfield, his calm demeanour came as a blessing.

Suddenly Chris's lips were at her ear, whispering so that only she could hear his words.

"You're just so damn hot when you're angry."

She glared a warning at him, unable to hide the smile that played across her lips. Something began to burn deep within the pit of her stomach and she knew that now was not the time.

"Sorry," James apologised when the first baby wipe connected with his skin. He very rarely had reason to speak the word, but it appeared to be one of his favourites to try out. Speech was a novelty, and he experimented with it freely.

"Oh, don't be, honey," Jill insisted. While she encouraged politeness, she had no desire for her son to grow up as fast as many parents forced their children, and mess, scraped knees and dirt were all important elements of childhood and she was not one to punish her son for simply being a child.

"I don't mind you making a mess of yourself," she added with a smile. "It's when you make a mess of the house that I get annoyed."

James laughed enthusiastically. She knew that his apology had merely been his way of testing the meaning of the word against the situation he had found himself in.

The chocolate washed away quickly, though the brown that now stained his T-shirt would not be so easily removed.

"Arms up," she instructed, raising her own out of habit. James did nothing, his hands in his lap as he laughed once again through a toothy grin.

"Don't play with me, now," she warned.

"Whas'sa magi'word?" he asked, repeating what she herself had asked him on many occasions.

Jill found herself unable to reply for several long seconds, completely taken by surprise at being schooled on manners by a two-year-old. Chris could not control his laughter, and had to steady himself with two hands against the counter.

"Arms up _please_," she corrected herself. Her cheeks burned and she was sure that she blushed furiously.

"Sorry?" James asked as he obeyed now that she had asked politely.

"Alright, don't push it," she fumed as Chris fell into a fresh fit of hysterics. "...sorry."

She threw the dirty T-shirt at Chris, who only barely caught it with his fingertips.

"My son is a genius," he gasped as he wiped away tears of mirth. "He's definitely got your brains."

Once again, a smile betrayed her feigned irritation.

"Will you bring a clean T-shirt down, please?" she asked, careful to be polite lest she be called on her lack of manners again. "Oh, and you might want to change yourself while you're up there.

Chris's eyes dropped with his head, only just picking up on the masterpiece James had attempted to paint on his chest. He was more than used to being covered in some sticky substance or another.

"I suppose I could," he pouted. "But I don't like these double standards. Why do _I_ have to clean myself and he gets the sponge bath?"

She barely had the patience for the hand that found its way to her waist as he moved close. The lips, on the other hand; they were welcome. Warm and soft against her temple, she found herself thrown from the moment and was left to smirk stupidly as she attempted to find her way back to reality.

"You're thirty-eight, Chris," she told him in a voice that was equal parts sweetness and sarcasm. "There's a bar of soap in the bathroom; I'm sure you can figure out how to use it. If not, I'll be here. Okay?"

On the last word, she reached up and pinched his cheek as she would a child. He huffed quietly in annoyance at the rebuffing of his flirtation, but retreated with the usual light in his eyes.

"Laugh all you want," she told her giggling son. "But you're going to turn into that when you're older."

James seemed to find this new information even more hilarious and his giggling began to impede the baby wipe's progress as it lifted chocolate that had somehow found its way onto his chest.

"So are you having fun?" she asked, attempting to engage the toddler in a little conversation. "Cool party, huh?"

"S'awes," he answered.

"Awes, huh? That good?" She couldn't help but to laugh. It was not that he could not pronounce the word 'awesome'; he just seemed to prefer not to say all of it.

"What about the presents? You got some pretty awes things there."

"I like dog," he mumbled, so quietly that Jill had to derive his meaning simply from the word 'dog'.

"You mean you want a dog?" she asked. James nodded slowly, and her heart sank in an instant.

She had discussed a possible family pet with Chris on many occasions, and had both went as far as to visit the local pound. There were many dogs they had felt the compunction to adopt, even with the belief that they should start small so that their son was not overwhelmed. Chris had favoured the German Shepherds, Jill expressing the wish for a beagle just like the dog she had grown up with. In the end, their preferences meant naught. When the news came that put an end to their immediate plans for a pet, they were thankful that they had not yet discussed the subject with their son.

"Maybe when you're older," she told him, relieved when he took this as good news and threw out his arms for a hug.

His arms wrapped comfortably around her neck when she picked him up and held his small body to her chest. As footsteps sounded through the dining area she hoped that Chris would appreciate the sentiment of the moment and choose not to chastise her for carrying out 'heavy lifting'.

"Did someone order a T-shirt?"

James obediently allowed Chris to pull the fabric over his head, which was easier said than done when he refused to be placed back onto the counter. He was lowered to the floor moments later and after a quick word of appreciation they were sure was intended to be "thank you", he ran back into the garden to rejoin the other toddlers.

Jill watched as he bounded off, debating for a moment on whether or not to join him.

Seconds later, her inner debate became pointless as Chris's arms wrapped around her midriff, his body pressed close to hers with his lips pressing on her cheekbone for a lingering moment.

"You're overly affectionate today," she noted, once again taken aback by his advances. "Any reason in particular?"

"Not really," he hummed. "I'm just happy."

She did not question why; the last two months had seen him such a perpetual state of joy that she no longer questioned or teased him for his uncharacteristic cheer.

Two months...

His arms shifted in a movement she was only vaguely aware of. It was when one hand fell to her abdomen, resting gently below her navel that she caught on to his meaning.

"Fourteen weeks," he whispered, eyes carefully observing the nearby guests. "When can we tell them?"

Twelve weeks had been the agreed safety point; past the dangers of the first trimester and the slightly higher risk of miscarriage it carried with it. Even though she was well into the safety zone, she faced reluctance when it came to revealing the information to their friends and family. In a way she knew that it was pure selfishness; something she shared only with Chris. James knew that he would soon have a sibling but was too young to understand that a child took nine months to grow big enough to face the world. Fortunately he was too young to question the finer points of her pregnancy. Jill was adamant that the birds and bees discussion fell under Chris's duties as the boy's father.

The pregnancy had come as a surprise to both of them. Discussions about future children had begun around James's first birthday and although they had unanimously decided that he would not be an only child, attempts did not start until almost a whole year later. Once they had begun trying for a second child, Jill refused to take a pregnancy test for a week out of fear of disappointment. One week turned into two, three, and then after a month of waiting, Chris frog-marched her into the bathroom with a home pregnancy test he then begged her to take. When it showed positive, they were overjoyed, and it took every ounce of strength within them not to call everyone they knew and tell the world the good news.

When they visited the doctor days later, they had discovered that she was eight weeks pregnant...she had been pregnant for a whole month before they had begun to try. Of course, they found the idea hilarious and could not curse their carelessness when the result was so wonderful.

"Not today," Jill replied after taking a moment for thought. "This is James's day. I don't want to steal his thunder."

"You're a good mother."

Jill hummed in delight. She never tired of his compliments, and neither did her heart.

"Maybe it's a girl this time?"

"You're hoping for a girl?" she asked in genuine surprise. He was so perfect in his role of father to a son. So happy was he to have a boy he was already planning to teach various sports to, the thought of him fathering a daughter had never crossed her mind.

"Well, he's a complete mommy's boy," he pointed out in good humour. "A daughter should even the playing field."

She made to elbow him in the ribs but his embrace prevented her from moving in the necessary way.

"I would love a daughter," he told her, serious this time. "Of course, I'd be locking her up as soon as she hits her teens. If she's anything like you she'll be nothing short of beautiful."

She allowed him to kiss her neck softly. Nothing risqué, just a simple affectionate nuzzle. With his constant compliments she was surprised that she did not have an ego to rival Carlos's.

"That's not to say I wouldn't be thrilled with another boy," he assured her. "I suppose there's always next time..."

"Next time?" She found the thought hilarious. "You want more?"

"You don't?"

"Of course I do. I would love a big family, I just..." A sigh broke her sentence in two. "I'm not getting any younger. You may be a well of fertility but sooner or later, I'm going to dry up. Time is running out."

Chris scoffed at her unconventional way of explaining the ticking of her biological clock.

"There are other options, you know," he reminded her, adjusting his hold on her so that it became more comforting.

"Like surrogacy?"

His breath tickled her ear as he let out a huff of disapproval.

"Nuh-uh," he insisted. "Unless it was genetically yours. It would be like having a child with another woman, I couldn't do that. It's either fully ours or not ours."

"It's perfectly normal you know," she giggled, finding his protectiveness endearing. "But alright. IVF then? I can freeze some of my eggs and-"

"Too dangerous," he countered. She could almost hear the frown in his expression. "We know from our two little surprises that you have no difficulty conceiving. If you suddenly stop then it means your body has passed that stage. Forcing a pregnancy upon it could cause complications. No matter how badly we want a child, I won't allow you to risk your health for it."

He was right, and she knew it. The risk with pregnancy increased with age and he had warned her on numerous occasions that he would not let her trade her health for a child.

"What then?" she asked, knowing that there were little other options.

"How about adoption?"

It was, she would admit, the last words she expected to hear from him.

"You would be okay with that?" she asked tentatively, attempting and failing to turn and face him.

"Of course I would." The mere thought that he wouldn't seemed absurd.

Adoption. She tried the word in her mind and found that she quite liked how it sounded. It was a topic close to Chris's heart, she knew that. He was an orphan and knew how important parental love was to a child.

"But I don't think it will get that far," he added. "Two sounds like a good number. Three is a good cap."

Jill laughed again as she looked out into the garden. It seemed that in parenting, Chris had found his niche. Or at least one that didn't involve guns and violence. James continued to play peacefully in the garden; a walking testament to his success as a father.

Chris's eyes followed hers, towards their son. A shift in his posture was evident from the moment he raised his head.

"He seems to be having fun," he purred, lips brushing her ear. "Preoccupied..."

His pelvis pressed firmly against hers, lips carving a trail of electric sensations down her neck. Something within her flared and she parted her lips to instruct him to stop, but somehow could not bring herself to speak the words.

Hands were exploring her body carefully, lips drawing closer and closer to that spot he knew always drove her crazy. Curses that she had never heard before drifted through the little of her mind she could understand; he knew damn well that the hormones had begun to hit her.

"I think we could steal twenty minutes," he groaned. It was not even a groan to signal pleasure; it was a groan he knew would persuade her to join his way of thinking.

"Chris, we can't," she argued, ignoring her mind's screams of 'yes, we _can_, and we _should_!'. "We-"

The fingers that had rested below her navel moved suddenly, yet slowly, Fingertips brushed against her skin, falling lower until they slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans.

Suddenly, Chris found himself pinned against the kitchen wall, out of view of the guests in the garden.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" she attempted to argue. "We can't possibly..."

Why did she attempt to argue? Even Jill could not understand her own reasoning when his fingers slipped beneath the strap of her top, pulling it and that of her bra off her shoulder so that he could kiss the skin it had previously covered. His stubble was coarse against her sensitive skin, adding to the friction that had already stolen her thoughts. Soon, it was her hips that pressed into his, her hands that gripped his waist, her head that tilted back as his lips travelled to where her scars had once lain. Laser surgery had worked a treat.

"Chris, we can't-" she began, pulling away from him with more reluctance than she had ever felt before.

"Come on, baby," he soothed, with a smirk still plastered on his face. "When do we get moments like this? For once, we don't have to schedule alone time into SpongeBob show times and babysitting hours."

Jill raised her eyebrows, mildly amused that he had brought up the square-panted one in such an intimate moment.

"If you would just listen," she whispered, drawing closer to him as she spoke. "I was going to say, we can't do this here because the children might see us..."

Chris blinked in dumb realisation.

"Oh. Alright then."

Within a matter of seconds, she found herself in his arms, cursing his stupidity aloud as he carried her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

* * *

_Jill always knew when she had been through a thoroughly good workout. It may have borderlined on masochism, but she found that she enjoyed the dull ache in her muscles that had begun to set in following training sessions._

_"Thank you, Officer Redfield," chirped a young recruit as she hauled an overnight bag onto her shoulder and slammed her locker door shut. "Good run today, ma'am."_

_Puzzlement hit her as she watched the young woman leave. She could have sworn that there was a skip in her step. There was no logical explanation for her happiness; Jill had begun to push her recruits harder and harder every session. It was not intentional cruelty; she had merely found that she enjoyed the rush of adrenaline. How was she to know that they would have difficulty keeping up with her? Her body had been put through nothing short of hell, through incarceration, forced labour and childbirth. They were floating around various ages in the twenties range and most of the women were childless._

_But nobody complained. She often wondered if they were afraid of her, then a well-meaning colleague would point out that her training groups had the greatest success rate upon graduating into the field. It was hard work but it paid off. Chris would point out that their training groups produced equally successful graduates, but she remained firm in the belief that this was only because they split classes and supervised joint-group efforts. Unfortunately for Chris, the search for a better trainer was hampered by the fact that during the co-group battle simulations, the victory tally was almost even._

_They had simply worked together too many years; somewhere along the line their styles had blended together and they had become equals._

_She sometimes joked that this was why he had chosen to bulk up in the years she was gone; she could never be as strong as he was now, not without infusing her body with P30 once again._

_A shudder travelled throughout her body at this thought. It was quickly shaken off and she watched the last of her recruits leave the female locker room before pulling a clean towel from the railing and heading towards the gym._

_The punchbag remained her favourite tool to abuse. It was the perfect way of releasing pent-up anger. One moment was all it took to visualise the face of whoever had irritated her that day and she could do all the damage she liked without facing the risk of suspension or even jail time._

_Doubts had plagued her in the past, regarding her return to more physical work. For days - weeks even - after she had given birth to her son she had felt as though her body would never be whole again. The aches, the fatigue and then the general inflation of certain body parts had taken their toll. The first time she stepped out onto the track, soles beating furiously into the sand, she found herself filled with an enormous sense of _being_. She was there, she was aching and she was so _alive_. It was another fortnight of paperwork, gentle weight-training and fitness tests before she began the teaching she seemed to have been waiting forever to begin._

_It was not quite active service, but it was good enough to sate the restless warrior within._

_A dull sensation began to spread through her knuckles and she swung one last time at the punchbag before allowing it to swing uneasily to a standstill. Now she was completely exhausted...it felt magical._

_The warmth of the water she found under the showerhead soothed the worst of the aches and pains, allowing her to cherish the rest and return to the locker room feeling thoroughly fulfilled._

_"Hey, look who it is," spoke a low, excited voice as she finished dressing herself._

_"What the hell are you doing in here?" she seethed through clenched teeth. "This is the girls' locker room. You're not in high school anymore!"_

_"Nice to see you have a high opinion of me," Chris chuckled. "But that was the last group for today, I checked. Besides, the boy wanted to see his mother."_

_Jill levelled her eyes at her husband. James was six months old; he rarely knew what he wanted let alone be able to communicate it to anyone._

_"Alright, _I_ wanted to see his mother," he admitted sheepishly._

_She found it hard to be mad at him, especially when James clung so tightly to his shirt and looked up at her with hopefully loving eyes. It was too much for her to take and all of a sudden she found herself stroking her son's soft hair and placing even softer kisses along the top of his head. That sweet, infant smell eased its way into her nostrils and forced a smile to her lips._

_"How's he doing?" she asked. "He looks a lot better today."_

_"He's fine. Fever broke, doctor said he can stop taking the medication."_

_James looked up at Jill expectantly moments before she took him into her arms. She pressed the back of a hand to his forehead, testing his temperature as a precaution. Relief came in waves when she felt that he was no warmer than he had been before his ear infection had set in. Though such infections were common for a child of his age, she had found herself extremely worried when he began to fall ill. Even when the doctor had assured them that it was a simple ear infection, she had to be talked out of the fear that it was a more sinister virus. Chris continued to repeat that James was immune, that even if he did somehow come into contact with the virus it would not take hold on his system and would simply die._

_It was the first time in months she had genuinely broken down and wept her worried heart out. Dr. Beaumont had described it as a 'moment of weakness' and told her that overcoming such a moment proved how well the battle against her darker side was faring. Jill had thought of it as a moment of stupidity and, looking back, felt embarrassment at jumping to such a pessimistic conclusion. Chris told her that it was natural maternal worry and part of what made her such a great mother._

_"Thank you for taking him," she gushed as James settled onto her chest._

_"No worries," he answered with a wink. "For a while there I was scared we'd have to miss the wedding."_

_Jill laughed. Finally, they had discovered something that would bend Chris into willingly risking the wrath of his sister._

_She gently handed their son back over to his father and then turned back towards her locker. Chris's gaze went unnoticed as it landed on the pictures she had taped to the inside of the locker door. He had already seen her desk and knew of the photographs she kept there. Lockers were different; where desktop photographs were sentimental, locker rooms were places of motivation._

_He had expected to see his own face smiling back, and that of the baby that was now several weeks older in person. What he had not anticipated to find on his wife's locker door was the face of the man who had held her prisoner and mentally beaten her into submission. Albert Wesker shared the photograph with the former Bravo team leader, Enrico Marini, and with a grinning Forest Speyer (who had jumped into the photograph at the last moment), but he instantly knew that it was out of place. The fact that the man's head remained intact and not scratched beyond recognition was enough to cement this fact in his mind._

_"Jill, what-" he began, but could not find the words to voice what he felt._

_Words were not needed. Jill followed his outstretched finger to the picture and drew a fearful breath in anticipation of what would come next._

_"It's motivation, right?" she asked, feeling incredibly stupid once she heard her own words. "I mean..."_

_She stopped to sigh, wishing that there were an easier way to voice her emotions and to keep a smile on her face so that James would not pick up on her sorrow._

_"I'm trying to forget, Chris," she spoke in a low voice. "But I can't forget him. I've tried and I've almost succeeded and all it has left me with is this ache in my chest and another empty corner in my mind. I have made peace with my memories...I need to make my peace with him. I need to learn to forgive him and-"_

_"Don't be f-" he began to hiss, the weight and warmth in his arms blocking his words before they came. "That's insane. He has done nothing to deserve forgiveness."_

_She blinked sadly. He could not understand._

_The anger and hatred that had fuelled her aggression when James was little more than a promise in her womb had almost consumed her. She hated what he had made her, hated how he had used her, how he had extended his malice hand beyond the grave and hurt her family. Most of all, she hated him. He was a despicable man who only knew how to cause pain and destruction. Beyond this, she knew that Albert Wesker was afraid. There was the constant need to _possess_, and to have the world on his terms and nothing else. He did not form attachments, did not even have a friend to his name. Power was all that kept him strong and focused. What he failed to see was that it took a strong man to rule the world with kindness. Those who beat it into submission were not worth the shit they were made of._

_So much of her energy had been focused on hating the ghost of this coward. There was the constant drain on her emotions, and the longing to finally be free of his influence. It was then that she realised the terrifying truth._

_The only way she could ever be free of Albert Wesker was through forgiveness. She had to let go of her grudge and the anger towards her former captor. It was all that stood in the way of her recovery._

_She attempted to organise these thoughts into words that Chris would understand, but the disbelief remained fixed in his eyes._

_"I'm tired of the control he still has over my life," she further explained. "I'm tired of giving him that control. If we don't forgive him, he will always be in our lives. I don't want that shadow to hang over us...to hang over James."_

_James blinked up at his father, pacifier moving rhythmically around his mouth. _

_"Us?" Chris asked softly. "Jill, you can't expect me to- I could never forgive him for what he did to you."_

_It was obvious to her that Wesker was still a drain on her husband's psyche. Pity came and went on occasional moments; he had shunned his nemesis physically only to have his actions haunt him a year after his death._

_"If I can, will you try?" she asked, preparing herself for an answer she did not wish to hear. "Please? For me?"_

_Chris sighed in resignation. He could never refuse her anything, especially if it aided her recovery. He may not have thought that Wesker was worth forgiveness, but she sure was._

_"This makes me feel...uncomfortable. To say the least."_

_"I know," Jill said with a smile. "Believe me, I know. That's why I have his picture with me here. It helps to keep me focused. The moment I can look at that picture without feeling anger and hatred, I'll know that I'm there. Until then..."_

_Until then, she would work like hell._

_A short burst of babbling from James broke the tension of the moment. Pain still hid behind Chris's eyes, but she knew that it was pain he would have to learn to deal with. The thought of forgiving a monster was inconceivable to him, but it had been to her many months ago. She wanted to move on from their past, and knew that this was the only way._

_Lips crashed softly against hers, seeking the warmth that would chase away his fear. The unprompted kiss ended only when James's hand found its way to Jill's jawbone with a sudden thud. The laughter that resulted killed the moment before it could begin._

_"Alright, mister," she laughed. "Come to mama. Can you grab my keys? Top shelf."_

_Chris obliged once his arms were free, and finished by locking the metal door and slipping the key into Jill's back pocket. _

_"I bet someone's hungry," she sang, unable to tear her eyes away from James's baby blue orbs. "How about lunch?"_

* * *

Claire was surprised to find that the crispy cakes were all gone by the time she checked on their status. Given the mess that James had gotten himself into when attempting to eat one, she was also surprised to have not received a stern telling-off from her nephew's parents.

'Speaking of my brother...'

Her eyebrow rose of its own accord as she waited patiently for him to reach her position by the barbeque table. She could have sworn that he was dressed differently, and that he was not smiling half as wide last time she had seen him. Curiously, her eyes moved behind him, noticing Jill step through the kitchen door, smoothing down her dress.

'Wasn't she wearing...?'

"Oh my God," she gasped in a frantic whisper when he finally reached her side. "You just had sex! Chris!"

His initial disturbed reaction turned into a smirk. She always saw right through him.

"Come on," he laughed before she could throw a slew of obscenities at him. "Admit it, nobody even knew we were gone."

In one quick movement, she scanned the small crowd. Reluctant as she was to admit that her brother was right, she agreed. As a fellow parent she also knew that moments had to be seized when they presented themselves. At that moment she could not help but feel a little jealous.

"How's married life?" he asked, not truly interested but rather desperate to change the subject before it became awkward.

"Good," she admitted with a smile. "Well, great since we finally found time for a honeymoon."

Chris smiled in genuine happiness for his sister. Several years ago their lives had slowly begun to tear them apart, children and marital commitments pulling them in all different directions but together. It did not bother him so much when they could meet up and act like it had not been weeks since they had last spoken.

He felt the need to give a lot back to Claire. The BSAA had eaten up the majority of his time, and then he had opted to ignore his friends and drown himself in self-pity following Jill's fall. When he finally returned with family in mind, her work and commitment to her husband - then only boyfriend - pulled her to places he was not. It was a release to think that they were both now raising families of their own in the same city.

"So can I expect another niece or nephew any time soon?" he asked with a smirk. The idea of his little sister raising a child was no longer something that made him feel incredibly old or awkward.

Claire laughed in response and chanced a quick glance over to Leon.

"Maybe someday," she thought aloud. "When Katherine is a little older. Right now we just want some time to ourselves."

He knew the feeling all too well. Only three childless years marked the time that he had Jill had been together as a couple. Sometimes he thought that it was not enough, but he knew deep down that no amount of time would ever be enough. James was a blessing and he could not imagine any more years without his son; sometimes he wished that they had been able to start a family sooner.

"What about you?" she asked, squinting her eyes against the sun. "You've been waiting years to have children; I can't see you settling for just one. Especially with Jill."

He laughed off her mild dig at the years he had spent pining over his partner. For a few seconds he glanced towards Jill, knowing from the way her gaze met his as she conversed with Leon that they were talking about the siblings.

"We're actually, uh...trying for one now," he lied. Dare he reveal the truth?

Jill had known of his eagerness to tell his sister and had given him permission to do so, but now that he was faced with the opportunity he felt that something held him back.

Claire grinned from ear to ear, pride glistening in her eyes.

"That's great!" she congratulated. "For how long? How's it going? When will you know?"

"Hey, slow down," Chris laughed. He looked down at Claire's expectant features. The smile still lit up her face and suddenly he knew that he could not lie to her...again.

"Alright, I lied," he sighed deeply. "But you have to promise me that you won't speak a word of this to anyone, not even Leon."

Claire drew her hand up to her chest and crossed her heart, failing to maintain her optimistic smile.

"We're expecting," he explained slowly and quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching as they did every time he considered the news. "She's fourteen weeks pregnant."

He was so sure that her eyes were about to pop from her head, they opened so wide. The smile returned, this time filled with joy and not mere optimism.

"Oh, congratulations!" she exclaimed, arms embracing him in a forced bear hug. "Chris, that's...that's-"

"I know," he grinned back, returning her embrace gleefully.

"Wow..." she breathed as she let go and allowed herself to calm down. "So you two are definitely okay now?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged gladly. "We have been for a long time..."

They remained in silence while the news hung in the air. Nerves were not an issue this time round. Everything he had feared two years ago had proven to be nothing, or to be a hell of a lot easier to deal with than he had anticipated. Truth be told, he had never felt so comfortable or so eager when facing a situation.

Though Jill was not as fragile as she had once been, he still worried. When he looked at Jill, and at James, he felt as though he were the wealthiest man alive. He would trade nothing for the life he had found and the family he had forged, but sometimes he wished that his chaotic life had been easier on those he loved. It was common news that the Umbrella saga had become part of the curriculum within high schools across the country. Current affairs steadily became greater sources of learning and no event taught a greater lesson than the destruction of Raccoon City. Chris often worried of the burden James would carry when he reached the age where his parents' work became known to his peers. The boy loved his parents dearly, and to learn of what they had suffered would create new lines of questioning and feelings of painful empathy. Explaining Dr. Seuss would evolve into explaining how his mother had been kidnapped, tortured and forced into servitude. What if the other students used the information against him?

They planned to reveal the truth to him themselves one day, and though that day was many years away he feared it more than anything. What if his questions brought back painful memories for Jill? What if he lashed out in anger? What if it upset him? Most of the disturbing details were omitted from what was taught in schools, but James was naturally inquisitive and would want to know the truth in its entirety.

"Uncle Chris," a tiny voice spoke by his feet, tearing him gratefully from his thoughts. Within minutes, he was on his knees.

"What is it, honey?" he asked the small girl.

Katherine blushed furiously, seeming unable to word what she had intended to say. Instead, she held a closed hand out to her uncle.

"For you," she insisted.

Chris opened his hand, not completely expecting the explosion of nature that fell onto his palm. It seemed that she had been picking daisies, but in doing so had also succeeded in pulling up clumps of grass and even a small worm, which writhed against his skin in confusion.

"Oh, thank you," he told her in confusion. "It's...lovely."

Within seconds, Katherine had burst into a fit of giggles. Suddenly, he wondered if it was the worm that had been the gift, and the flower had been the innocent bystander caught in the destructive path of a two-year-old. Either way, it was sweet. Nothing could have been held against the wide-eyed blonde toddler, not since it became obvious that she had inherited her mother's knack for expressions that could draw anyone to her side.

"Aunt Jill said to give you," she explained, eyes glistening with childhood innocence.

"Oh she did, did she?" he laughed.

The girl was sweet, that much was obvious. For all the noise, mess and general destruction they caused, there was something about children that cause his heart to swell in a way only Jill had previously been able to instigate.

Somehow, he knew that he would cope just fine with a second child.

* * *

"Should we be worried?" Leon asked casually. Jill followed the direction of his speech and locked eyes with her husband, noticing the conversation he was engrossed in.

It was obvious from the smile he flashed that they were the topic of that particular conversation.

"I doubt it," she assured him with a half-hearted smile. "She's changed since you married."

Leon laughed dubiously. To him she had always been the same. Good humour, mildly malicious jokes and a smile that could knock a man dead at ten paces. Sure, the friendly teasing had calmed down since the wedding but she was still there beneath the smiles and newly-adopted maternal attitude. Motherhood suited her in a way he had never thought possible. He often thought the same about Jill.

"So how is married life?" Jill added as an afterthought, knowing fine well that this was likely the topic of the siblings' discussion.

"Strangely normal," he answered honestly. "You married a Redfield...you know what it's like."

"Strangely normal," she echoed, laughter fracturing her words. Given their history, there was nothing about their current relationship that she would label 'unusual'. Part of her wondered if they had simply experienced so much that nothing seemed unusual to them now.

As for Leon...news of his relationship with the younger Redfield sibling had came as a shock to her. She had always known that Claire held a torch for her kind-hearted yet quiet friend. After Leon had joined with the government, their paths rarely crossed. There were other people, but nothing ever seemed too serious. Leon's heart was so obviously blocked, though he never completely explained the details of his relationship with the mysterious woman.

"Leon..." she began. She experienced a little resistance; knowledge that she perhaps should not probe a long-forgotten subject. "What happened to the other woman? You were in love with her..."

His cheerful expression felt solemn and he searched for words in the bottom of his cup.

"I was in love with the idea of her," he corrected. "I was young and I fell for someone so mysterious that...I honestly didn't know _who_ she was."

Jill listened intently, bowing her head as she knew how a gaze was difficult to meet during conversations of this nature.

"After you...after your fall, everything fell apart," he continued. "Chris was in a dark state and Claire had nobody to turn to. I offered her my shoulder and found I wanted so much more. How I was blind to her all those years, I'll never know. I spoke to Ada again, and realised that what I felt for her was nothing in comparison to what I had with Claire. For the first time since I met her, I walked away without a single regret. To finally be free of her was such a release."

He let out a gentle laugh as Jill acknowledged his meaning. Freedom from their pasts was all they had ever wanted. Freedom from Umbrella, from Wesker and from the ties that bound them til they bled.

"I know the feeling," she shared. "Forgiving Wesker was the hardest thing we have ever done. But once we did...it felt liberating. Like I don't have reason to be afraid anymore."

The subject of relinquishing their hatred had caused more arguments than anything else in the time since James's birth. Even so, it was something she knew had to be done and had striven for emotional freedom from that point on. All she had wanted was to give James the best life possible, to be the best mother she could be, and she knew that this was just not possible with hatred and anger gripping so tightly to her mind.

Chris had been more reluctant to tackle this particular aspect of her troubles, but with gentle persuasion and reassurance he too was able to see the light.

"Aunt Jill," Katherine's voice called out, snapping them both from their momentary thoughts. "Flower."

It was all she could do not to release her inhibitions and gush "aww" in a voice she would have later been ashamed of. Her joy, however, was short lived as Leon cleared his throat, lifted his daughter and pulled her a safe distance away from Jill.

"Flower and what?" he asked.

"Flower," she insisted, opening her palm to show a single daisy that had been crushed a little by her grip.

"I always get insects," Leon sighed, and allowed Jill to take the daisy. "I don't know why they don't gross her out."

"For dress," Katherine mumbled, pointing a chubby finger towards Jill's floral summer dress.

"Thank you, sweetie," she smiled appreciatively. "Oh, but I think Chris would love this. Do you want to take it over to him?"

Katherine nodded enthusiastically, almost bouncing out of her father's arms. She was careful not to crush the flower this time, and picked a daisy from the lawn beneath their feet to give to Jill. It did not seem fair that she should go without.

"Ooh, worm!" she exclaimed, bending down to scoop something in her palm before running off.

"She thinks boys like bugs," Leon answered Jill's questioning gaze.

They both laughed, turning to observe the exchange that was about to take place. As if by instinctive motion, she moved a hand to brush inconspicuously against her abdomen.

'I think Chris is right,' she thought. 'A girl would be perfect.'

* * *

"What?" James asked, pressing a finger to the page of the book Chris held before him.

"That is a butterfly," Chris explained, allowing the small finger to trace the outline of the picture.

"A burrurfy? Bupufy? Bu-" he gave up at the third try, settling instead for the assumption that he did not need to pronounce this word. "Catapilla?"

"Yes, the caterpillar turned into the butterfly," Chris confirmed with a smile. "See all the food he ate? The food helped him grow."

The young child contemplated this fact for a few moments, the finger that traced the butterfly now rubbing at the many colours.

"Mama, bu'fly!" he announced suddenly. Jill looked up as she grasped the last of his toys, body still bent half over.

"Oh, you learned a new word," she acknowledged with a smile. Her reaction pleased the boy, who went on to repeat the word a few more times in his momentary pride.

The toy was placed amongst the rest of his presents. The guests may have left minimal mess in their wake, but there still seemed to be so much of the party left to clean. Chris had already persuaded her to relax for a couple of hours, but the disarray of the living room had drawn her to clean after a short while.

Satisfied that their home was back to normal, she settled beside Chris on the sofa and allowed James to point out the picture of the butterfly in the book. No sooner had she seated herself, Chris's right arm moved from its safe position holding his son on his knee to be placed around her shoulders lovingly.

"Please learn the meaning of the word 'rest'," he begged.

Her eyelids drooped as she thought of a reply. In the end, she settled for a soft kiss.

"It's all done now," she yawned. "Now I have some time to spare for my boys."

The calm was soothing, and she settled into it the best she could. A long week lay ahead of her, and many changes to her working environment that she was not looking forward to facing. As it was approaching the BSAA's annual recruitment period, there was little physical exertion involved in the training of recruits. During the lull prior to recruitment periods, training duties required merely observing the previous batch of recruits as they prepared for and underwent their final physical assessment. It was activity a pregnant woman was comfortable to indulge in, but the more rigorous training that came with the sudden influx of rookies was straying into the danger zone. Paperwork was something she was not always comfortable with, but the analysis side of her desk job was at least enough to see her through the next six months. If she argued enough, she could perhaps settle for drill instruction for the next month.

Of course, she would have to tell her superiors that she was pregnant first.

The book found its way onto the free cushion on Chris's other side as James's attention began to wane. A yawn followed soon after and he leaned back against Chris's torso.

"I think someone's tired," Jill hummed, rubbing a rosy cheek with the back of her forefinger. "Time for bed, little man."

"Mmm," James whined. If he had wished to protest his fatigue, he failed miserably. Between the exhaustion left behind by the laps he had ran around the back garden earlier and the heat of Chris's body, he simply did not have the strength to fight sleep.

"I've got him," Chris chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet whilst heaving his son up into his arms. "He sleeps as much as you do."

A sharp thwack to his arm was taken in good humour and Jill followed as he began to ascend the stairs.

"You're as bad as I am," she argued amicably. "Which is doubly shameful because you're not pregnant."

"Penant," James tried, liking the sound of the word as much as his mother. It was a shame his tired ears had not heard it correctly. "Down!"

Chris obliged, and lowered him to the floor once they reached the door to his bedroom. His feet had barely touched the carpet when he began to bound off towards his bed. The toddler bed was a relatively new addition to the room and still a novelty for the young boy. His parents were thankful that they had changed him into his pyjamas earlier, as wrestling him out from under the covers was a feat that bordered on impossible.

"Happy birthday, honey," Jill soothed as she placed his favourite toy - a wide-eyed penguin named Jasper - next to him beneath the covers.

"Happy birthday, son," Chris agreed.

The same proud smile he had displayed upon receiving this greeting earlier in the day spread across his cheerful face. After worrying herself sick that she would disappoint him somehow with the celebrations, Jill was happy to know that he had enjoyed everything she had offered.

They both remained by his bed for several minutes, Jill stroking his hair and whispering soothing words to him. It did not take long for his eyes to close and not flutter back open again.

As they both left the room, Jill made sure to leave the door ajar so that the hallway light would shine dimly into his room. A quick check was made to ensure that the baby gate at the top of the stairs remained firmly closed, as did every other door on the landing. James always slept easier if he knew that he could find his way to his parents' bedroom at any hour of the night. They were only too happy to allow him the means for this, and always made sure that there were no dangers for him to face on the journey. Even their bedroom had been baby-proofed to within an inch of its life, all small objects placed carefully out of reach and the door to their ensuite bathroom remaining closed at all times.

Chris watched her as she moved, not bothering to help because he knew she would only check everything herself anyway. That was Jill; always taking the extra precaution.

When she had ceased her checking and double-checking, she turned to Chris and smiled wearily at him.

"I think I'm going to turn in, too," she spoke softly, so as not to wake the sleeping toddler. "Tuck me in?"

"Tuck you in?" Chris asked, stifling a yawn. "I think I'll join you."

It had been a long day. An enjoyable one, but long nonetheless.

Jill did not bother to use the bathroom to de-clothe herself, taking the opportunity to observe her figure in the full-length mirror. The years she had spent building up muscle tone had ensured that her pre-pregnancy shape returned soon after James' birth; a fact for which she was immensely thankful. However, muscle was not on her mind. She turned sideways, her hand finding what she had deliberately not observed for a week.

"Hey," she laughed, drawing her husband's attention immediately. "Look."

She matched his smile as he laughed, taking in the curve of her abdomen that had previously been hidden beneath everything empire-lined. Her nightdress remained hitched beneath her breasts, fingers gently tracing the protrusion.

"I've got shape now," she noted, amused by her own discovery. "I don't just look like I've been getting heavy with the donuts."

Chris joined her soon after, arms encircling her so that they could both observe the fruits of their labour in the reflective surface of the mirror.

"I don't think we can hide this much longer," he chuckled lightly. "Perhaps we should invite everyone over at the weekend?"

Jill hummed in agreement. Hiding was becoming very tiresome. They had nothing to hide, but worry still lingered. It was one concept that she could not turn her back on, no matter how much evidence pointed to the contrary.

"Remember that second honeymoon we talked about?" Chris whispered into her neck as he kissed her skin. She hummed again in reply. "Now would seem like the perfect time. James is old enough now that we don't mind leaving him for a week, you're at a relatively early stage...this could be the last chance we get for another two years."

She considered the idea, breath remaining safely in her lungs for reasons she did not know. They had discussed many aspects of their marriage once her troubles had melted into insignificance; renewal of vows, another honeymoon. While renewal of vows seemed to be a good idea following the rocky start to their marriage, Jill had refused point blank and Chris had not been all too keen on the idea. They saw renewing their vows as a claim that the early months of their marriage had been a disaster and something that needed to be corrected. While it had not been easy going, neither of them believed that the problems they encountered warranting reassuring each other in a superfluous ceremony that they were dedicated to each other for the rest of their lives; renewing their vows would be turning their back on the astounding good that had come from the darkness of Jill's descent into despair. They were stronger now, more aware of each other's feelings and now knew of the emotional lengths that they would go to for one another. That was affirmation enough.

"I would love that," she decided. Her nightdress fell to cover her small bump and that hands that caressed it. Moments later, they were facing and Chris's hands were at her back.

"Good," he smiled. "Because I already booked it. One week, next Saturday, same place, same hotel... Don't worry, I spoke to Claire and Leon; they said they would look after James."

Jill found that she was speechless. A vacation was just what they needed, and a return to their honeymoon destination was an improvement on an already great idea. Her appreciation was shown by the tender kiss she offered; a kiss he reciprocated enthusiastically.

She must have kissed him a thousand times, likely more, but she never tired of his touch and the same reaction that she had felt the first time she tasted his lips found its way into her veins every time. It was a love that never grew old, and she felt blessed to have found it with Chris.

What was once tender and loving became deep and passionate, and when they finally pulled apart it was with more reluctance than either of them had expected to feel.

As lids covered hazel eyes, she sensed a smile that he fought to keep from his lips. She knew deep down that he still harboured the pain of losing her. It was not something that she could change or even help, but she tried her best to understand it. The improvement she had seen within him since their first session with Dr. Beaumont was phenomenal, to say the least; rather than fearing the moments they may spent apart, he had learned to cherish those that they spent together.

Pain would always be a part of their past, and once they had made peace with this fact they learned that the future held a world of promises and possibilities that their past had no right to affect.

She watched as he turned and peeled his T-shirt from his torso. Two years of parenting had seen his form shrink back to what she could recall of the night they had invaded Ozwell Spencer's European mansion. While he had never outwardly admitted that he had seen his gym habits as the obsession they were, she knew that the scaling-down of muscle mass was not entirely to do with the lack of spare time a child left him with. He was only a few years away from forty and seemed to have realised that maintaining such a physique at his age was more effort than it was worth, and perhaps a little vain. Still, he liked to keep in shape and she often marvelled at how his body was little different now than it had been ten years ago. Then she would smile quietly and congratulate herself for falling in love with such a timeless man.

Scars still decorated his body, though many had faded over time. She would often lie awake at night, tracing those that were visible to her and trying to place exactly how he had received them. The only scar that lingered on her own skin was one at the level of her shoulder; a pinkish stain that was noticeable only to those who knew where to look for it. Considering the extent of her injuries following her fall, she was amazed that her body was not riddled with white lines. There were few bones in her body that had not broken that night.

"Eight years together and you're still secretly checking me out," Chris chuckled, snapping her from her reverie. "They can't say we haven't still got it."

A pillow found his face, and was returned a moment later in jest.

Sleep was fast approaching as they found their way beneath the bedsheets.

"They could probably tell us the gender at tomorrow's scan," Jill breathed softly, musing aloud rather than addressing her husband.

"Jill, stop it," he laughed quietly, eyes closed and facing the ceiling as his arm waited for her to fall into it. "It's bad enough that we agreed to find out this time. If you keep talking about it, I'll never fall asleep."

She tickled his ribs gently as she rolled against him, grinning widely. Prepared as she was to tease him further, her ears picked up on the soft pad of footsteps across the carpet outside their room. A moment later, light spilled into the large bedroom as the door opened semeingly of its own accord. She knew the cause, but had to push herself upright to see the toddler that rubbed his eyes, a rather dishevelled Jasper swinging woefully from one hand.

"Can I sleep?" James asked groggily. It was obvious that he had only recently woken up and had made no attempts to fall back asleep in his own bed. Part of Chris doubted that he had slept at all and had merely been faking the peaceful slumber he and Jill had left him to.

Jill sighed dramatically and pushed herself off the bed and onto her feet.

"I suppose," she agreed with faked reluctance, pushing the bedroom door closed. "But only for tonight, because it's your birthday. You're a big boy now, you have to sleep in your own bed."

She heaved him up onto the bed before climbing back in herself, making accommodations for her son and his hopelessly strangled penguin.

It did not take much effort for him to crawl beneath the covers and settle between his tired parents.

It was a strange scene for both of them to observe; a small infant huddled between them, seeking the warmth they exuded. It was a picture they would not have painted a decade earlier. Before, they were lucky merely to have their health and to still be alive after facing so much. Now... Now they had left behind worries of old and found themselves facing a new set that seemed equally absurd.

"I love you," Jill found herself whispering as she kissed James' forehead. Morbid pessimism and the old expectation of death ready to pounce had brought her to reminding both the man and the boy in her life of her feelings at every given opportunity.

"Love you, mama," James muttered in a tired voice that hinted mild inconvenience at being forced to voice what he believed to be glaringly obvious when he was desperately seeking sleep.

"...dada," he muttered as an afterthought, hoping that Chris took the hint.

They could not help but to laugh.

"Yeah; love you, mama," Chris mimicked, knowing that it would ordinarily have warranted a mock slap.

There was a certain sense of peace that enveloped her in that moment, son and husband smiling and sleeping beside her. Her past and the pain that it carried lingered on within her hardened shell, but when she took a moment to stop, think, and observe the present, observe the happiness she had found, she realised that all her past worry was unfounded, all her past mistakes reperable, and all the past pain a gift that had brought her to see the world as she saw it know. Things were not the same as they would have been had Wesker never betrayed them, Umbrella never turned to illegal activites and the town that had brought her to Chris and to the friends she could not forget never been so violently destroyed, but she believed that in its own way this life was worth the price they had paid.

She had a loving husband, a beautiful son, a second child on the way, and friends and family who were willing to support her even through the darkest times. The nightmares became inconsequential, the doubts quickly erased, and the memories taken as lessons well learned.

A world without fear; freedom. It was all they had ever wanted.

They say that on the darkest night a single star can light up the smallest world. A guiding light to a better state of mind. An opportunity that must be seized and held on to at all costs. To maintain one's grip and find the resolve to forge on, to fight towards the light; that is the measure of a strong mind.

And strong minds shine brighter than a supernova in the black.

_"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us,  
we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures,  
have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand."  
_**-Henri Nouwen-**

_~fin~_

**AN - **And that, beloved and loyal readers, is the end. Damn, it bugs me more than I thought to say that. What can I say? This story evolved so much from what I had originaly planned. A small ficlet turned into a veritable monster of proportions it still shocks me to consider. What was intended to last only a few months has lasted much longer and become my longest and also most reviewed story on this site. I can't believe that I'm actually sad to bring it to an end.

I just want to say a huge, huge, HUGE thank you to everyone who took the time to read (especially when the word count reached obscene numbers) and to review. I honestly never thought that I would get the response I did.

A few of you have been asking about sequels and future stories... As you may have noticed, I posted the prologue for another fic not long after I posted the last chapter of this. I was intending to hold off until this was finished but once I had completed it I just had to post. It is called Strength Through Wounding and is a distant prequel to this. It is set after the original 'mansion incident' and deals with the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members wading through the aftermath, including Chris and Jill coming to terms with their feelings for one another. I'm trying to venture out into new genres so as well as themes similar to this, expect horror, maybe some action, and a little bit of espionage. The next chapter will hopefully be up soon. I have been having internet issues, which is why it took so long to post this epilogue, so I can't upload anything at the moment when using my own connection. However, the next chapter will definitely be up before Christmas, though hopefully much sooner.  
As of yet, I have no sequels planned but I do keep thinking about what Chris, Jill, James and the fourth Redfield may get up to so there may be a oneshot in the future if I have an idea worth posting. I don't want to post something just for the sake of it. So let me know what you would like to see and you never know, I may get inspired :).

So, I will say one final farewell, and one final humongous thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited; you make an already fun hobby even more enjoyable and I am truly grateful for the experience.  
Epilogue title is from a song by Alkaline Trio.


End file.
